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t> &AtVAGE IN SPACE 
^‘JACK WILLIAMSON 

piAlsoF^tor/es By 

yPPTHUR J. BURKS 
^NARL VINCENT 

Murray leinster. 























Fight colds if you 
would guard against 



SINUS TROUBLE 

<JliStc>uuc kills germs in moi 

Tests have shown a reduction of bacteria 
on mouth surfaces as high as 99% 



The racking pain . . . the months 
of misery . . . the serious opera- 
tion ... no indeed, you don’t 
want sinus trouble. Many sinus 
infections begin with the com- 
mon cold, an infection itself. The 
germs travel upward from the 
throat (where most colds begin), 
invading the tiny sinus passages. 

What steps are you taking to 
fight colds this winter? Remem- 
ber that not only sinusitis, but 
mastoid trouble and pneumonia 
are frequently traceable to colds. 

Why not begin now to gargle at 
least twice a day with full 
strength Listerine, the safe antiseptic with the 
pleasant taste? 

Listerine reduces colds 

Tests, under careful supervision, have shown that 
those who gargled Listerine twice-a-day caught 
cold less often than those who did not gargle 
with it. 

And mark this: When Listerine users did con- 
tract colds, the colds were less severe than those 
of non-users. 

The cause of the average cold and simple sore 
throat is a germ, scientists now believe. Accom- 
panying the cold in its development are various 



other germs — millions of them. 
They help to irritate the tissues 
—make the cold more severe. 

Bacterial reduction up to 99% 

The moment full strength Lister- 
ine enters the mouth it kills mil- 
lions of germs on the surfaces of 
the mucous membrane; tests 
have shown reductions of bac- 
terial count ranging to 99%. 

Gets results because safe 

Tire results achieved by Listerine 
in checking colds and sore throat 
cannot be expected from ordinary 
mouth washes so harsh they irritate the mucous 
membrane. Listerine’s success lies in the fact that 
while fatal to germs, it is at the same time safe to 
use; does not irritate the tissue. 

Remember this factor of safety when buying 
a mouth wash. Ask for Listerine and see that you 
gel it. 

Keep the bottle handy, and to ward off colds, 
gargle every morning and every night. When 
you feel a cold coming on, increase the gargle to 
once every two hours, call your physician and 
abide by his instructions. 

Lambert Pharmacal Company, St. Louis, 
Missouri. 




When your throat is sore or you 
feel a cold coming on, gargle uiih 
Listerine every two hours. It often 
relieves the sore throat and checks 
the progress of the cold. 



AND IT CHECKS SORE THROAT 




ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



1 



Clean Out Y our Kidneys - 
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This guaranteed medicine starts work in 15 min- 
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Cystex is helping millions of sufferers and 
is guaranteed to fix you up to your satis- 
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from delay, get Cystex today. 




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VoL. XII, NO. 1 



CONTENTS March, 1933 



COVER DESIGN H. W. WESSO 



THE EXPANDING UNIVERSE HARRY BATES 

An Editorial. 

SALVAGE IN SPACE JACK WILLIAMSON 6 

To Thad Allen, Meteor Miner, Comes the Dangerous Bonanza of a Derelict Rocket-Flier Manned 
by Death Invisible. 

LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE ARTHUR J. BURKS 22 

High into Air Are the Great New York Buildings Lifted by a Ray Whose Source No Telescope 
Can Find. (A Complete Novelette.) 

THE END OF TIME WALLACE WEST 64 

By Millions of Millions the Creatures of Earth Slow and Drop When Their Time-Sense Is Mys- 
teriously Paralyzed. 

THE DEATH-TRAPS OF FX-31 SEWELL PEASLEE WRIGHT 82 

Commander John Hanson Recalls His Harrowing Expedition among the Giant Spiders of FX-31. 

WANDERER OF INFINITY HARL VINCENT 100 

In the Uncharted Realms of Infra-Dimensional Space Bert Meets a Pathetic Figure— the 
Wanderer. 

INVASION MURRAY LEINSTER 118 

The Whole Fighting Fleet of the United Nations Is Caught in Kreynborg’s Marvelous, Unique 
Trap. 

THE SCIENCE FORUM CARLYLE ELLIOTT, Ph.D. 136 

A Place Where Your Questions on Science Are Answered. 

THE READERS’ CORNER ALL OF US 138 

A Meeting Place for Readers of Astounding Stories. 



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The Expanding Universe 

An Editorial by Harry Bates 



O be in line with the trend of 
modern scientific thought, it ap- 
pears that we must accept the dic- 
tum that the universe is under- 
going a wholesale inflation. Therefore 
if there is an earnest desire to study our 
celestial neighbors we would do well to 
set about it diligently within the next 
trillion years or so before the cosmic 
dust becomes so widely dispersed that 
our heavens are devoid of any visible 
stars and our solar system has whirled 
its way on to a solitary eternity. 

On the other hand, if this theory does 
not appeal to one, there is an alterna- 
tive. That is, that instead of undergoing 
an expansion, the imiverse is contracting 
and we will eventually have some sort 
of a get-together with distant solar sys- 
tems the light from which may now be 
too feeble to be discerned. There is 
apparently no halfway measure. A 
static cosmos is not to be tolerated; the 
idea of constant motion is too charac- 
teristic of the concepts of natural phi- 
losophy to allow consideration of the ab- 
sence of it. 

The atom with its revolving electrons, 
the molecules, dizzily darting in obey- 
ance to the kinetic law, larger agglom- 
erates, such as solar systems with their 
well-ordered families of satellites ever 
coursing around their parent sun — all of 
these phenomena yield testimony to the 
fact that there is nothing static in the 
universe. And now we find that the 
great star-group of which our solar sys- 
tem forms an infinitesimal part is in 
process of pulling away from other star- 
groups. 

Whether it is a case of expansion or 
contraction, it seems logical that we 
should be on our way. Without the re- 
motest possibility of any interstellar 
binding force between these distant 
groups, it would seem an utter absurdity 
that through some freak of chance rela- 
tive positions should just happen to re- 
main constant. 

Sir Arthur Eddington remarked at 
last year’s meeting of the British Asso- 
ciation for the Advancement of Science 
that “the theory of the expanding uni- 
verse is in some respects so preposter- 
ous . . . that I feel almost an indig- 
nation that anyone should believe it — 
except myself.” But just the same he 
believes in it so strongly that he has 
bothered to figure out the rate of ex- 
pansion. Whatever that speed may be in 
miles per hour or in light years per sec- 
ond, Sir Arthur claims that the universe 



now occupies twice as much space as it 
did 1,300,000,000 years ago. 

Dr. H. P. Robertson, of Princeton, 
using data obtained by Dr. Hubble at 
Mount Wilson, comes to the conclusion 
that the universe has attained a size 
thirteen times_ as great as it was origi- 
nally. (The highly inaccurate nature of 
estimates of this kind is evident when 
we are told that if the presence of 
dark matter is taken into consideration, 
the universe may only have doubled.) 

While Sir Arthur Eddington prefers 
to look upon the universe as an ex- 
panding one, he also entertains the pos- 
sibility of a gradual contraction, in 
which case he ,says that an outside ob- 
server not subject to the universal con- 
traction would view a diminution in 
everything — atoms, plants, animals and 
stellar systems. The earth would spiral 
nearer and nearer the sun with a diz- 
zily increasing speed. The stage of ter- 
restrial life would become increasingly 
smaller as would the actors themselves. 
Their gyrations would become faster 
and faster, and, as the last act begins, 
the curtain would open upon midget ac- 
tors rushing through their parts at fran- 
tic speed. One last blur of intense agi- 
tation — and then nothing. 

The expansion theory is more appeal- 
ing to us. If there is anything distaste- 
fully imminent as it is, it is cramped 
quarters. What if infinite expansion is 
the ultimate? The theories of the curva- 
ture of space as propounded by Ein- 
stein, it would seem, would finally put 
an end to the expansion, and a contrac- 
tion would eventually set in anyhow. The 
radial expansion in a “straight” line 
would of necessity, due to the curvature 
of space, cause the elements of the uni- 
verse to “boomerang” back. All matter 
would again form a compact aggregate, 
possibly with a refusion and subsequent 
redistribution— a new creation. 

Perhaps this cycle has occurred before. 
Perhaps it has happened a million times. 

Picture a million solar systems tossed 
out of a molten chaos into space. Their 
natural inclination would be to follow a 
straight line, but the curvature of the 
medium in which they travel bends their 
courses into arcs of infinite radius. 

Picture their ultimate return to the 
place of their birth after eons of time. 
Then a cataclysmic explosion, and, as 
their kinetic energy is reconverted back 
to heat, a re-fusion into one mass. 

Then expansion: again the firmament is 
filled with stars. 




5 



Salvage in Space 

By Jack Williamson 



H IS “planet” was the small- 
est in the solar system, 
and the loneliest, Thad 
Allen was thinking, as he 
straightened wearily in the huge, 
bulging, inflated fabric of his Os- 
prey space armor. Walking awk- 
wardly in the magnetic boots that 
held him to the black mass of 
meteoric iron, he mounted a pro- 
jection and stood motionless, star- 
ing moodily away through the 
vision panels of his bulky helmet 
into the dark mystery of the void. 

His welding arc dangled at his 
belt, the elec- 
trode still glow- 
' ing red. He had 
just finished se- 
curing to this 
slowly - accumu- 
lated mass of iron his most recent 
find, a meteorite the size of his 
head. 

Five perilous weehs he had la- 
bored, to collept thi^t rugged lump 
of metal — a jagged mass, some ten 
feet in diameter, composed of hun- 
dreds of fragments, that he had 
captured and welded together. His 
luck had not been good. His find- 
ings had been heart-breakingly 
small ; the spectro-flash analysis 
had revealed that the content of the) 



precious metals was disappointing- 
ly minute.* 

On the other side of this tiny 
sphere of hard-won treasure, his 
Millen atomic rocket was sputter- 
ing, spurts of hot blue flame jet- 
ting from its exhaust. A simple 
mechanism, bolted to the first siz- 
able fragment he had captured, it 
drove the iron ball through space 
like a ship. 

Through the magnetic soles of 
his insulated boots, Thad could feel 
the vibration of the iron mass, be- 
neath the rocket’s regular thrust. 

The magazine of 
uranite fuel cap- 
sules was nearly 
empty, now, he re- 
flected. He would 
soon have to turn 

back toward Mars. 

Turn back. But how could he, 
with so slender a reward for his 
efforts? Meteor mining is expensive. 
There was his bill at Millen and 
Helion, Mars, for uranite and sup- 
plies. And the unpaid last instal- 
ment on his Osprey suit. How could 
he outfit himself again, if he re- 
turned with no more metal than 
this? There were men who averaged 
a thousand tons of iron a month. 
Why couldn’t fortune smile on him? 



To Thad Allen, meteor miner, 
come* the dangerous bonanza of 
a derelict rocket-flier manned by 
death invisible. 



. *The meteor or asteroid belt, between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter, is 
“mined” by such adventurers as Thad Allen for the platinum, iridium and osmium 
that all meteoric irons contain in small quantities. The meteor swarms are sup- 
posed by some astronomers to be fragments of a disrupted planet, which, according 
to Bode’s Law, should occupy this space. 



6 



SALVAGE IN SPACE 



7 



He knew men who had made 
ftbnlous strikes, who had captured 
whole planetoids o£ rich metal, and 
le knew weary, white-haired men 
who had braved the perils of vac- 
uum and absolute cold and bullet- 
swift meteors for hard years, who 
still hoped. 

But sometime fortune had to 
smile, and then. ... 

The picture came to him. A tower 
of white metal, among the low red 
hills near Helion. A slim, graceful 
tower of argent, rising in a fra- 



grant garden of flowering Martian 
shrubs, purple and saffron. And 
a girl waiting, at the silver door — 
a trim, slender girl in white, with 
blue eyes and hair richly brown. 

Thad had seen the white tower 
many times, on his holiday tramps 
through the hills about Helion. He 
had even dared to ask if it could 
be bought, to find that its price 
was an amount that he might not 
amass in many years at his perilous 
profession. But the girl in white 
was yet only a glorious dream. . . . 




Gigantic claws seemed to reach out of empty air. 




8 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



T he strangeness of interplan- 
etary space, and the somber 
mystery of it, pressed upon him 
like an illimitable and deserted 
ocean. The sun was a tiny white 
disk on his right, hanging between 
rosy coronal wings ; his native 
Earth, a bright greenish point sus- 
pended in the dark gulf below it; 
Mars, nearer, smaller, a little ocher 
speck above the shrunken sun. 
Above him, below him, in all direc- 
tions was vastness, blackness, emp- 
tiness. Ebon infinity, sprinkled 
with far, cold stars. 

Thad was alone. Utterly alone. 
No man was visible, in all the 
supernal vastness of space. And no 
work of man — save the few tools 
of his daring trade, and the glit- 
tering little rocket bolted to the 
black iron behind him. It was ter- 
rible to think that the nearest hu- 
man being must be tens of millions 
of miles away. 

On his first trips, the loneliness 
had been terrible, unendurable. 
Now he was becoming accustomed 
to it. At least, he no longer feared 
that he was going mad. But some- 
times. ... 

Thad shook himself and spoke 
aloud, his voice ringing hollow in 
his huge metal helmet: 

“Brace up, old top. In good com- 
pany, when you’re by yourself, as 
Dad used to say. Be back in Helion 
in a week or so, anyhow. Look up 
Dan and ‘Chuck’ and the rest of 
the crowd again, at Comet’s place. 
What price a friendly boxing match 
with Mason, or an evening at the 
teleview theater? 

“Fresh air instead of this stale 
synthetic stuff! Real food, in place 
of these tasteless concentrates! A 
hot bath, instead of greasing your- 
self! 

“Too dull out here. Life — ’’ He 
broke off, set his jaw. 

No use thinking about such 
things. Only made it worse. Be- 
sides, how did he know that a 



•whizzing meteor wasn’t going to 
flash him out before he got back? 

H e drew his right arm out of 
the bulging sleeve of the 
suit, into its ample interior, found 
a cigarette in an inside pocket, and 
lighted it. The smoke swirled about 
in the helmet, drawn swiftly into_ 
the air filters. 

“Darn clever, these suits,’’ he 
murmured. “Food, smokes, water 
generator, all where you can reach 
them. And darned expensive, too. 
I’d better be looking for pay 
metal !” 

He clambered to a better posi- 
tion; stood peering out into space, 
searching for the tiny gleam of sun- 
light on a meteoric fragment that 
might be worth capturing for its 
content of precious metals. For an 
hour he scanned the black, star- 
strewn gulf, as the sputtering 
rocket continued to drive him for- 
ward. 

“There she glows!” he cried sud- 
denly, and grinned. 

Before him was a tiny, glowing 
fleck, that moved among the un- 
changing stars. He stared at it in- 
tensely, breathing faster in the hel- 
met. 

Always he thrilled to see such 
a moving gleam. What treasure it 
promised! At first sight, it was im- 
possible to determine size or dis- 
tance or rate of motion. It might 
be ten thousand tons of rich metal. 
A fortune! It would more probably 
prove to be a tiny, stony mass, not 
worth capturing. It might even be 
large and valuable, but moving so 
rapidly that he could not overtake 
it with the power of the diminu- 
tive Millen rocket. 

He studied the tiny speck in- 
tently, v/ith practised eye, as the 
minutes passed — an untrained eye 
would never have seen it at all, 
among the flaming hosts of stars. 
Skilfully he judged, from its ap- 
parent rate of motion and its slow 



SALVAGE IN SPACE 



9 



increase in brilliance, its size and 
distance from him. 

“Must be — must be fair size,” he 
spoke aloud, at length. “A hundred 
tons. I’ll bet my helmet! But scoot- 
ing along pretty fast. Stretch the 
little old rocket to run it down.” 

He clambered back to the rocket, 
changed the angle of the flaming 
exhaust, to drive him directly 
across the path of the object ahead, 
filled the magazine again with the 
little pellets of uranite, which were 
fed automatically into the combus- 
tion chamber, and increased the fir- 
ing rate. 

The trailing blue flame reached 
farther backward from the incan- 
descent orifice of the exhaust. The 
vibration of the metal sphere in- 
creased. Thad left the sputtering 
rocket and went back where he 
could see the object before him. 

I T was nearer now, rushing 
obliquely across his path. 
Would he be in time to capture it 
as it passed, or would it hurtle by 
ahead of him, and vanish in the 
limitless darkness of space before 
his feeble rocket could check the 
momentum of his ball of metal? 
He peered at it, as it drew closer. 
Its surface seemed oddly bright, 
silvery. Not the dull black of me- 
teoric iron. And it was larger, more 
distant, than he had thought at 
first. In form, too, it seemed curi- 
ously regular, ellipsoid. It was no 
jagged mass of metal. 

His hopes sank, rose again im- 
mediately. Even if it were not the 
mass of rich metal for which he 
had prayed, it might be something 
as valuable — and more interesting. 

He returned to the rocket, ad- 
justed the angle of the nozzle 
again, and advanced the firing time 
slightly, even at the risk of a ruin- 
ous explosion. 

When he returned to where he 
could see the hurtling object be- 
fore him, he saw that it was a ship. 



A tapering silver-green rocket-flier. 

Once more his dreams were 
dashed. The officers of interplan- 
etary liners lose no love upon the 
meteor miners, claiming that their 
collected masses of metal, almost 
helpless, always underpowered, are 
menaces to navigation. That could 
expect nothing from the ship save 
a heliographed warning to keep 
clear. 

But how came a rocket-flier here, 
in the perilous swarms of the me- 
teor belt? Many a vessel had been 
destroyed by collision with an as- 
teroid, in the days before charted 
lanes were cleared of drifting 
metal. 

The lanes more frequently used, 
between Earth, Mars, Venus and 
Mercury, were of course far inside 
the orbits of the asteroids. And the 
few ships running to Jupiter’s 
moons avoided them by crossing 
millions of miles above their plane. 

Could it be that legendary green 
ship, said once to have mysteriously 
appeared, sliced up and drawn with- 
in her hull several of the primitive 
ships of that day, and then disap- 
peared forever after in the remote 
wastes of space? Absurd, of course: 
he dismissed the idle fancy and ex- 
amined the ship still more closely. 

Then he saw that it was turning, 
end over end, very slowly. That 
meant that its gyros were stopped; 
that it was helpless, drifting, dis- 
abled, powerless to avoid hurtling 
meteoric stones. Had it blundered 
unawares into the belt of swarms 
— been struck before the danger 
was realized? Was it a derelict, 
wnth all dead upon it? 

E ither the ship’s machinery 
was completely wrecked, 
Thad knew, or there was no one 
on watch. For the controls of a 
modern rocket-flier are so simple 
and so nearly automatic that a sin- 
gle man at the bridge can keep a 
vessel upon her course. 



10 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



It might be, he thought, that a 
meteorite had ripped open the hull, 
allowing the air to escape so quick- 
ly that the entire crew had been 
asphyxiated before any repairs 
could be made. But that seemed 
unlikely, since the ship must have 
been divided into several compart- 
ments by air-tight bulkheads. 

Could the vessel have been de- 
serted for some reason? The crew 
might have mutinied, and left her 
in the life-tubes. She might have 
been robbed by pirates, and set 
adrift. But with the space lanes 
policed as they were, piracy and 
successful mutiny were rare. 

Thad saw that the flier’s navi- 
gation lights were out. 

He found the heliograph signal 
mirror at his side, sighted it upon 
the ship, and worked the mirror 
rapidly. He waited, repeated the 
call. There was no response. 

The vessel was plainly a derelict. 
Could he board her, and take her 
to Mars? By law, it was his duty 
to attempt to aid any helpless ship, 
or at least to try to save any en- 
dangered lives upon her. And the 
salvage award, if the ship should 
be deserted and he could bring her 
safe to port, would be half her 
value. 

No mean prize, that. Half the 
value of ship and cargo! More than 
he was apt to earn in years of min- 
ing the meteor belt. 

With new anxiety, he measured 
the relative motion of the gleaming 
ship. It was going to pass ahead 
of him. And very soon. Nq more 
time for speculation. It was still 
uncertain whether it would come 
near enough so that he could get 
a line to it. 

Rapidly he unslung from his belt 
the apparatus he used to capture 
meteors. A powerful electromagnet, 
with a thin, strong wire fastened to 
it, to be hurled from a helix-gun. 
He set the drum on which the wire 
was wound upon the metal at his 



feet, fastened it with its magnetic 
anchor, wondering if it would stand 
the terrific strain when the wire 
tightened. 

Raising the helix to his shoulder, 
he trained it upon a point well 
ahead of the rushing flier, and 
stood waiting for the exact moment 
to press the lever. The slender spin- 
dle of the ship was only a mile 
away now, bright in the sunlight. 
He could see no break in her pol- 
ished hull, save for the dark rows 
of circular ports. She was not, by 
any means, completely wrecked. 

He read the black letters of her 
name. 

Red Dragon. 

The name of her home port, be- 
low, was in smaller letters. But 
in a moment he made them out. San 
Francisco. The ship then came from 
the Earth! From the very city 
where Thad was born! 

T he gleaming hull was near 
now. Only a few hundred yards 
away. Passing. Aiming well ahead 
of her, to allow for her motion, 
Thad pressed the key that hurled 
the magnet from the helix. It flung 
away from him, the wire scream- 
ing from the reel behind it. 

Thad’s mass of metal swung on 
past the ship, as he returned to the 
rocket and stopped its clattering 
explosions. He watched the tiny 
black speck of the magnet. It van- 
ished from sight in the darkness 
of space, appeared again against 
the white, burnished hull of the 
rocket ship. 

For a painful instant he thought 
he had missed. Then he saw that 
the magnet was fast to the side of 
the flier, near the stern. The line 
tightened. Soon the strain would 
come upon it, as it checked the mo- 
mentum of the mass of iron. He set 
the friction brake. 

Thad flung himself flat, grasped 
the wire above the reel. Even if 
the mass of iron tore itself free. 



SALVAGE IN SPACE 



11 



he could hold to the wire, and him- 
self reach the ship. 

He flung past the deserted ves- 
sel, behind it, his lump of iron 
swung like a pebble in a sling. A 
cloud of smoke burst from the 
burned lining of the friction brake, 
in the reel. Then the wire was all 
out; there was a sudden jerk. 

And the hard-gathered sphere of 
metal was gone — snapped off into 
space. Thad clung desperately to 
the wire, muscles cracking, tor- 
tured arms almost drawn from their 
sockets. Fear flashed over his mind; 
what if the wire broke, and left 
him floating helpless in space? 

T held, though, to his relief. 

He was trailing behind the 
ship. Eagerly he seized the handle 
of the reel; began to wind up the 
mile of thin wire. Half an hour 
later, Thad’s suited figure bumped 
gently against the shining hull of 
the rocket. He got to his feet, and 
gazed backward into the starry 
gulf, where his sphere of iron had 
long since vanished. 

“Somebody is going to find him- 
self a nice chunk of metal, all 
welded together and equipped for 
rocket navigation,” he murmured. 
“As for me — well, I’ve simply got 
to run this tub to Mars!” 

He walked over the smooth, re- 
fulgent hull, held to it by magnetic 
soles. Nowhere was it broken, 
though he found scars where small 
meteoric particles had scratched 
the brilliant polish. So no meteor 
had wrecked the ship. What, then, 
was the matter? Soon he would 
know. 

The Red Dragon was not large. 
A hundred and thirty feet long, 
Thad estimated, with a beam of 
twenty-five feet. But her trim lines 
bespoke design recent and good; 
the double ring of black projecting 
rockets at the stern told of un- 
usual speed. 

A pretty piece of salvage, he re- 



flected, if he could land her on 
Mars. Half the value of such a 
ship, unharmed and safe in port, 
would be a larger sum than he 
dared put in figures. And he must 
take her in, now that he had lost 
his own rocket! 

He found the life-tubes, six of 
them, slender, silvery cylinders, ly- 
ing secure in their niches, three 
along each side of the flier. None 
was missing. So the crew had not 
willingly deserted the ship. 

He approached the main air-lock, 
at the center of the hull, behind 
the projecting dome of the bridge. 
It was closed. A glance at the dials 
told him there was full air pres- 
sure within it. It had, then, last 
been used to enter the rocket, not 
to leave it. 

T had opened the exhaust valve, 
let the air hiss from the cham- 
ber of the lock. The huge door 
swung open in response to his hand 
upon the wheel, and he entered the 
cylindrical chamber. In a moment 
the door was closed behind him, 
air was hissing into the lock again. 

He started to open the face-plate 
of his helmet, longing for a breath 
of air that did not smell of sweat 
and stale tobacco smoke, as that in 
his suit always did, despite the best 
chemical purifiers. Then he hesi- 
tated. Perhaps some deadly gas, 
from the combustion chambers. . . . 

Thad opened the inner valve, and 
came upon the upper deck of the 
vessel, A floor ran the full length 
of the ship, broken with hatches 
and companionways that gave to the 
rocket rooms, cargo holds, and 
quarters for crew and passengers 
below. There was an enclosed lad- 
der that led to bridge and navigat- 
ing room in the dome above. The 
hull formed an arched roof over it. 

The deck was deserted, lit only 
by three dim blue globes, hanging 
from the curved roof. All seemed 
in order — the fire-fighting equip- 



12 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



ment hanging on the walls, and the 
huge metal patches and welding 
equipment for repairing breaks in 
the hull. Everything was clean, 
bright with polish or new paint. 

And all was very still. The si- 
lence held a vague, brooding threat 
that frightened Thad, made him 
wish for a moment that he was 
back upon his rugged ball of metal. 
But he banished his fear, and 
strode down the deck. 

Midway of it he found a dark 
stain upon the clean metal. The 
black of long-dried blood. A few 
tattered scraps of cloth beside it. 
No more than bloody rags. And a 
heavy meat cleaver, half hidden be- 
neath a bit of darkened fabric. 

Mute record of tragedy! Thad 
strove to read it. Had a man fought 
here and been killed? It must have 
been a struggle of peculiar vio- 
lence, to judge by the dark spat- 
tered stains, and the indescribable 
condition of the remnants of cloth- 
ing. But what had he fought? An- 
other man, or some thing? And 
what bad become of victor and 
vanquished? 

He walked on down the deck. 

The torturing silence was broken 
by the abrupt patter of quick lit- 
tle footsteps behind him. He turned 
quickly, nervously, with a hand go- 
ing instinctively to his welding arc, 
which, he knew, would make a 
fairly effective weapon. 

I T was merely a dog. A little dog, 
yellow, nondescript, pathetically 
delighted. With a sharp, eager bark, 
it leaped up at Thad, pawing at his 
armor and licking it, standing on 
its hind legs and reaching toward 
the visor of his helmet. 

It was very thin, as if from long 
starvation. Both ears were ragged 
and bloody, and there was a long, 
nhealed scratch across the shoul- 
er, somewhat inflamed, but not a 
serious wound. 

The bright, eager eyes were 



alight with joy. But Thad thought 
he saw fear in them. And even 
through the stiff fabric of the Os- 
prey suit, he felt that the dog was 
trembling. 

Suddenly, with a low whine, it 
shrank close to his side. And an- 
other sound reached Thad’s ears. 

A cry, weird and harrowing be- 
yond telling. A scream so thin and 
so high that it roughened his sk^- 
so keenly shrill that it torti<ifed 
his nerves; a sound of that peituliar 
frequency that is more agonizing 
than any bodily pain. 

When silence came again, Thad 
was standing with his back against 
the wall, the welding arc in his 
hand. His face was cold with sweat, 
and a queer chill prickled up and 
down his spine. The yellow dog 
crouched whimpering against his 
legs. 

Ominous, threatening stillness 
filled the ship again, disturbed only 
by the whimpers and frightened 
growls of the dog. Trying to calm 
his overwrought nerves, Thad lis- 
tened — strained his ears. He could 
hear nothing. And he had no idea 
from which direction the terrifying 
sound had come. 

A strange cry. Thad knew it had 
been born in no human throat. Nor 
in the throat of any animal he 
knew. It had carried an alien note 
that overcame him with instinctive 
fear and horror. What had voiced 
it? Was the ship haunted by some 
dread entity? 

F or many minutes Thad stood 
upon the deck, waiting, tensely 
grasping the welding tool. But the 
nerve-shattering scream did not 
come again. Nor any other sound. 
The yellow dog seemed half to for- 
get its fear. It leaped up at his 
face again, with another short lit- 
tle bark. 

The air must be good, he thought, 
if the dog could live in it. 

He unscrewed the face-plate of 



SALVAGE IN SPACE 



13 



his helmet, and lifted it. The air 
that struck his face was cool and 
clean. He breathed deeply, grate- 
fully. And at first he did not no- 
tice the strange odor upon it: a 
curious, unpleasant scent, earthly, 
almost fetid, unfamiliar. 

' The dog kept leaping up, whin- 
ing. 

“Hungry, boy?” Thad whispered. 
^He fumbled in the bulky inside 
pockets of his suit, found a slab of 
concentrated food, and tossed it 
out through the opened panel. The 
dog sprang upon it, wolfed it eager- 
ly, and came back to his side. 

Thad set at once about exploring 
the ship. 

First he ascended the ladder to 
the bridge. A metal dome covered 
it, studded with transparent ports. 
Charts and instruments were in 
order. And the room was vacant, 
heavy with the fatal silence of the 
ship. 

T HAD had no expert’s knowl- 
edge of the flier’s mechanism. 
But he had studied interplanetary 
navigation, to qualify for his li- 
cense to carry masses of metal 
under rocket power through the 
space lanes and into planetary at- 
mospheres. He was sure he could 
manage the ship if its mechanism 
were in good order, though he was 
uncertain of his ability to make 
any considerable repairs. 

To his relief, a scrutiny of the 
dials revealed nothing wrong. 

He started the gyro motors, got 
the great wheels to spinning, and 
thus stopped the slow, end-over- 
end turning of the flier. Then he 
went to the rocket controls, warmed 
three of the tubes, and set them to 
firing. The vessel answered readily 
to her helm. In a few minutes he 
had the red fleck of Mars over the 
bow. 

“Yes, I can run her, all right,” 
he announced to the dog, which 
had followed him up the steps, 



keeping close to his feet, “Don’t 
worry, old boy. We’ll be eating a 
juicy beefsteak together, in a week. 
At Comet’s place in Helion, down 
by the canal. Not much style — ^but 
the eats! 

“And now we’re going to do a 
little detective work, and find out 
what made that disagreeable noise. 
And what happened to all your 
fellow-astronauts. Better find out, 
before it happens to us!” 

He shut off the rockets, and 
climbed down from the bridge 
again. 

When Thad started down the 
companionway to the officers’ quar- 
ters, in the central one of the five 
main compartments of the ship, the 
dog kept close to his legs, growl- 
ing, trembling, hackles lifted. Sens- 
ing the animal’s terror, pitying it 
for the naked fear in its eyes, 
Thad wondered what dramas of 
horror it might have seen. 

The cabins of the navigator, cal- 
culator, chief technician, and first 
officer were empty, and forbidding 
with the ominous silence of the 
ship. They were neatly in order, 
and the berths had been made since 
they were used. But there was a 
large bloodstain, black and circu- 
lar, on the floor of the calculator’s 
room. 

The captain’s cabin held evidence 
of a violent struggle. The door had 
been broken in. Its fragments, with 
pieces of broken furniture, books, 
covers from the berth, and three 
service pistols, were scattered about 
in indescribable confusion, all 
stained with blood. Among the 
frightful debris, Thad found sev- 
eral scraps of clothing, of dissimi- 
lar fabrics. The guns were empty. 

TTEMPTING to reconstruct 
the action of the tragedy from 
those grim clues, he imagined that 
the five officers, aware of some 
peril, had gathered here, fought, 
and died. 




14 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



The dog refused to enter the 
room. It stood at the door, look- 
ing anxiously after him, trembling 
and whimpering pitifully. Several 
times it sniffed the air and drew 
back, snarling. Thad thought that 
the unpleasant earthy odor he had 
noticed upon opening the face- 
plate of his helmet was stronger 
here. 

After a few minutes of search- 
ing through the wildly disordered 
room, he found the ship’s log— or 
its remains. Many pages had been 
torn from the book, and the re- 
mainder, soaked with blood, formed 
a stiff black mass. 

Only one legible entry did he 
find, that on a page torn from the 
book, which somehow had escaped 
destruction. Dated five months be- 
fore, it gave the position of the 
vessel and her bearings — she was 
then just outside Jupiter’s orbit. 
Earthward bound — and concluded 
with a remark of sinister implica- 
tions: 

“Another man gone , this 
morning. Simms, assistant tech- 
nician. A fine workman. O’Deen 
swears he heard something 
moving on the deck. Cook 
thinks some of the doctor’s 
stuffed monstrosities have come 
to life. Ridiculous, of course. 
But what is one to think?” 

Pondering the significance of 
those few lines, Thad climbed back 
to the deck. Was the ship haunted 
by some weird death, that had 
seized the crew man by man, mys- 
teriously? That was the obvious 
implication. And if the flier had 
been still outside Jupiter’s orbit 
when those words were written, it 
must have been weeks before the 
end. A lurking, invisible death ! The 
scream he had heard. . . . 

H e descended into the forecas- 
tle, and came upon another 
such silent record of frightful 



carnage as he had found in the cap- 
tain’s cabin. Dried blood, scraps of 
cloth, knives and other weapons. A 
fearful question was beginning to 
obsess him. What had become of the 
bodies of those who must have died 
in these conflicts? He dared not 
think the answer. 

Gripping the welding arc, Thad 
approached the after hatch, giving 
to the cargo hold. Trepidation al^ 
most overpowered him, but be was 
determined to find the sinister men- 
ace of the ship, before it found 
him. The dog whimpered, hung 
back, and finally deserted him, con- 
tributing nothing to his peace of 
mind. 

The hold proved to be dark. An 
indefinite black space, oppressive 
with the terrible silence of the flier. 
The air within it bore still more 
strongly the unpleasant fetor, 

Thad hesitated on the steps. The 
hold was not inviting. But at the 
thought that 3t sleep, un- 

guarded, while i" -ig the flier to 
Mars, his resolution returned. The 
uncertainty, the constant fear, 
would be unendurable. 

He climbed on down, fueling for 
the light button. He found it, as 
his feet touched the floor. Blue 
light flooded the hold. 

It was filled with monstrous 
things, colossal creatures, such as 
nothing that ever lived upon the 
Earth; like nothing known in the 
jungles of Venus or the deserts of 
Mars, or anything that has been 
found upon Jupiter’s moons. 

They were monsters remotely re- 
sembling insects or crustaceans, but 
as large as horses or elephants; 
creatures upreared upon strange 
limbs, armed with hideously fanged 
jaws, cruel talons, frightful, saw- 
toothed snouts, and glittering 
scales, red and yellow and green. 
They leered at him with phos- 
phorescent eyes, yellow and purple. 

They cast grotesquely gigantic 
shadows in the blue light. . . . 



SALVAGE IN SPACE 



15 



A COLD shock of horror started 
along Thad’s spine, at sight of 
those incredible nightmare things. 
Automatically he flung up the weld- 
ing tool, flicking over the lever 
with his thumb, so that violet elec- 
tric flame played about the elec- 
trode. 

Then he saw that the crowding, 
hideous things were motionless, 
that they stood upon wooden ped- 
estals, that many of them were 
supported upon metal bars. They 
were dead. Mounted. Collected 
specimens of some alien life. 

Grinning wanly, ^d conscious of 
a weakness in the knees, he mut- 
tered: “They sure will fill the mu- 
seum, if everybody gets the kick 
out of ’em that I did. A little too 
realistic, I’d say. Guess these are 
the ‘stuffed monstrosities’ men- 
tioned in the page out of the log. 
No wonder the cook was afraid of 
them. Some of them do look hell- 
ishly alive!” 

He started av the hold, 

shrinking involuntai,..y from the 
armored enormities that seemed 
crouched to spring at him, motion- 
less eyes staring. 

So, at the end of the long space, 
he found the treasure. 

Glittering in the blue light, it 
looked unreal. Incredible. A daz- 
zling dream. He stopped among the 
fearful, silent things that seemed 
gathered as if to guard it, and 
stared with wide eyes through the 
opened face-plate of his helmet. 

He saw neat stacks of gold in- 
gots, new, freshly smelted; bars of 
silver-white iridium, of argent plat- 
inum, of blue-white osmium. Many 
of them. Thousands of pounds, 
Thad knew. He trembled at thought 
of their value. Almost beyond cal- 
culation. 

Then he saw the coffer, lying 
beyond the piled, gleaming ingots 
— a huge box, eight feet long, made 
of some crystal that glittered with 
snowy whiteness, filled with spar- 



kling, iridescent gleams, and inlaid 
with strange designs, apparently in 
vermilion enamel. 

With a little cry, he ran toward 
the chest, moving awkwardly in the 
loose, deflated fabric of the Osprey 
suit. 

B eside the coffer, on the floor 
of the hold, was literally a 
mountain of flame — blazing gems, 
heaped as if they had been care- 
lessly dumped from it; cut dia- 
monds, incredibly gigantic; mon- 
ster emeralds, sapphires, rubies; 
and strange stones, that Thad did 
not recognize. 

And Thad gasped with horror, 
when he looked at the designs of 
the vermilion inlay, in the white, 
gleaming crystal. Weird forms. 
Shapes of creatures somewhat like 
gigantic spiders, and more unlike 
them. Demoniac things, wickedly 
fanged, jaws slavering. Executed 
with masterly skill, that made them 
seem living, menacing, secretly 
gloating! 

Thad stared at them for long 
minutes, fascinated almost hypnot- 
ically. Three times he approached 
the chest, to lift the lid and find 
what it held. And three times the 
unutterable horror of those crim- 
son images thrust him back, shud- 
dering. 

“Nothing but pictures,” he mut- 
tered hoarsely. 

A fourth time he advanced, trem- 
bling, and seized the lid of the 
coffer. Heavy, massive, it was fash- 
ioned also of glistening white crys- 
tal, and inlaid in crimson with 
weirdly hideous figures. Great 
hinges of white platinum held it 
on the farther side; it was fastened 
with a simple, heavy hasp of the 
precious metal. 

Hands quivering, Thad snapped 
back the hasp, lifted the lid. 

New treasure in the chest would 
not have surprised him. He was 
prepared to meet dazzling wonders 



16 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



of gems or priceless metal. Nor 
would he have been astonished at 
some weird creature such as one of 
those whose likenesses were inlaid 
in the crystal. 

But what he saw made him drop 
the massive lid. 

A woman lay in the chest — mo- 
tionless, in white. 

I N a moment he raised the lid 
again; examined the still form 
more closely. The woman had been 
young. The features were regular, 
good to look upon. The eyes were 
closed; the white face appeared 
very peaceful. 

Save for the extreme, cadaverous 
pallor, there was no mark of death. 
With a fancy that the body might 
be miraculously living, sleeping, 
Thad thrust an -arm out through 
the opened panel of his suit, and 
touched a slender, bare white arm. 
It was stiff, very cold. 

The still, pallid face was framed 
in fine brown hair. The fair, small 
hands were crossed upon the breast, 
over the simple white garment. 

A queer ache came into his heart. 
Something made him think of a 
white tower in the red hills near 
Helion, and a girl waiting in its 
fragrant garden of saffron and pur- 
ple— -a girl like this. 

The body lay upon a bed of blaz- 
ing jewels. 

It appeared, Thad thought, as if 
the pile of gems upon the floor 
had been hastily scraped from the 
coffer, to make room for the quiet 
form. He wondered how long it had 
lain there. It looked as if it might 
have been living but minutes be- 
fore. Some preservative, . . . 

His thought was broken by a 
sound that rang from the open 
hatchway on the deck above — the 
furious barking and yelping of the 
dog. Abruptly that was silent, and 
in its place came the uncanny and 
terrifying scream that Thad had 
heard once before, on this flier of 



mystery. A shriek so keen and 
shrill that it seemed to tear out his 
nerves by their roots. The voice of 
the haunter of the ship. 

W HEN Thad came back upon 
the deck, the dog was still 
barking nervously. He saw the ani- 
mal forward, almost at the bow. 
Hackles raised, tail between its 
legs, it was slinking backward, 
barking sharply as if to call for aid. 

Apparently it was retreating 
from something between Thad and 
itself. But Thad, searching the 
dimly-lit deck,*could see no source 
of alarm. Nor could the structures 
upon it have shut any large object 
from his view. 

“It’s all right!” Thad called, in- 
tending to reassure the frightened 
animal, but finding his voice queer- 
ly dry. “Coming on the double, old 
man. Don’t worry.” 

The dog had reached the end of 
the deck. It stopped yelping, but 
snarled and whined as if in terror. 
It began darting back and forth, 
moving exactly as if something 
were slowly closing in upon it, 
trapping it in the corner. But Thad 
could see nothing. 

Then it made a wild dash back 
toward Thad, darting along by the 
wall, as if trying to run past an 
unseen enemy. 

Thad thought he heard quick, 
rasping footsteps, then, that were 
not those of the dog. And some- 
thing seemed to catch the dog in 
mid-air, as it leaped. It was hurled 
howling to the deck. For a moment 
it struggled furiously, as if an in- 
visible claw had pinned it down. 
Then it escaped, and fled whim- 
pering to Thad’s side. 

He saw a new wound across its 
hips. Three long, parallel scratches, 
from which fresh red blood was 
trickling. 

Regular scraping sounds came 
from the end of the deck, where 
no moving thing was to be seen — 



SALVAGE IN SPACE 



17 



sounds such as might be made by 
the walking of feet with un- 
sheathed claws. Something was 
coming back toward Thad. Some- 

P , . 

thing that was invisible! 

T error seized him, with the 
knowledge. He had nerved him- 
self to face desperate men, or a 
savage animal. But an invisible be- 
ing, that could creep upon him 
and strike unseen! It was incred- 
ible . . . yet he had seen the dog 
knocked dov,m, and the bleeding 
wound it had received. 

His heart paused, then beat very 
quickly. For the moment he thought 
only blindly, of escape. He knew 
only an overpowering desire to 
hide, to conceal himself from the 
invisible thing. Had it been pos- 
sible, he might have tried to leave 
the flier. 

Beside him was one of the com- 
panionways amidships, giving ac- 
cess to a compartment of the vessel 
that he had not explored. He 
turned, leaped down the steps, with 
the terrified dog at his heels. 

Below, he found himself in a 
short hall, dimly lighted. Several 
metal doors opened from it. He 
tried one at random. It gave. He 
sprang through, let the dog fol- 
low, closed and locked it. 

Trying to listen, he leaned weak- 
ly against the door. The rushing 
of his breath, swift and regular. 
The loud hammer of his thudding 
heart. The dog’s low whines. Then 
— unmistakable scraping sounds, 
outside. 

The scratching of claws, Thad 
knew. Invisible claws! 

He stood there, bracing the door 
with the weight of his body, hold- 
ing the welding arc ready in his 
hand. Several times the hinges 
creaked, and he felt a heavy pres- 
sure against the panels. But at last 
the scratching sounds ceased. He 
relaxed. The monster had with- 
drawn, at least for a time. 



When he had time to think, the 
invisibility of the thing was not so 
incredible. The mounted creatures 
he had seen in the hold were evi- 
dence that the flier had visited 
some unknown planet, where weird 
life reigned. It was not beyond 
reason that such a planet should be 
inhabited by beings invisible to 
human sight. 

Human vision, as he knew, uti- 
lizes only a tiny fraction of the 
spectrum. The creature must be 
largely transparent to visible light, 
as human flesh is radiolucent to 
hard X-rays. Quite possibly it 
could be seen by infra-red or ultra- 
violet light — evidently it was vis- 
ible enough to the dog’s eyes, with 
their different range of sensitivity. 

P USHING the subject from his 
mind, he turned to survey the 
room into which he had burst. It 
had apparently been occupied by 
a woman. A frail blue silk dress 
and more intimate items of femi- 
nine wearing apparel were hanging 
above the berth. Two pairs of deli- 
cate black slippers stood neatly be- 
low it. 

Across from him was a dressing 
table, with a large mirror above it. 
Combs, pins, "jars of cosmetic clut- 
tered it. And Thad saw upon it a 
little leather-bound book, locked, 
stamped on the back “Diary.” 

He crossed the room and picked 
up the little book, which smelled 
faintly of jasmine. Momentary 
shame overcame him at thus steal- 
ing the secrets of an unknown girl. 
Necessity, however, left him no 
choice but to seize any chance of 
learning more of this ship of mys- 
tery and her invisible haunter. He 
broke the flimsy fastening. 

Linda Cross was the name writ- 
ten on the fly-leaf, in a firm, clear 
feminine hand. On the next page 
was the photograph, in color, of a 
girl, the brown-haired girl whose 
body Thad had discovered in the 



18 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



crystal coffer in the hold. Her eyes, 
he saw, had been blue. He thought 
she looked very lovely — like the 
waiting girl in his old dream of 
the silver tower in the red hills by 
Helion. 

The diary, it appeared, had not 
been kept very devotedly. Most of 
the pages were blank. 

One of the first entries, dated a 
year and a half before, told of a 
party that Linda had attended in 
San Francisco, and of her refusal 
to dance with a certain man, re- 
ferred to as “Benny,” because he 
had been unpleasantly insistent 
about wanting to marry her. It 
ended: 

“Dad said to-night that we’re 
going off in the Dragon again. 
All the way to Uranus, if the 
new fuel works as he expects. 
What a lark, to explore a few 
new worlds of our own! Dad 
says one of Uranus’ moons is 
as large as Mercury. And Ben- 
ny won’t be proposing again 
soon !” 

Turning on, Thad found other 
scattered entries, some of them 
dealing with the preparation for the 
voyage, the start from San Fran- 
cisco — and a huge bunch of flowers 
from “Benny,” the long months of 
the trip through space, out past the 
orbit of Mars, above the meteor 
belt, across Jupiter’s orbit, beyond 
the track of Saturn, which was the 
farthest point that rocket explorers 
had previously reached, and on to 
Uranus, where they could not land 
because of the unstable surface. 

T he remainder of the entries 
Thad found less frequent, 
shorter, bearing the mark of ex- 
citement: landing upon Titania, the 
third and largest satellite of 
Uranus; unearthly forests, shelter- 
ing strange and monstrous life; the 
hunting of weird creatures, and 



mounting them for museum speci- 
mens. 

Then the discovery of a ruined 
city, whose remains indicated that 
it had been built by a lost race of 
intelligent, spiderlike things; the 
finding of a temple whose walls 
were of precious metals, containing 
a crystal chest filled v/ith wondrous 
gems; the smelting of the metal 
into convenient ingots, and the 
transfer of the treasure to the hold. 

The first sinister note there en- 
tered the diary: 

“Some of the men say we 
shouldn’t have disturbed the 
temple. Think it will bring us 
bad luck. Rubbish, of course. 
But one man did vanish while 
they were smelting the gold. 
Poor Mr. Tom James. I sup- 
pose he ventured away from 
the rest, and something caught 
him.” 

The few entries that followed 
were shorter, and showed increas- 
ing nervous tension. They recorded 
the departure from Titania, made 
almost as soon as the treasure was 
loaded. The last was made several 
weeks later. A dozen men had van- 
ished from the crew, leaving only 
gouts of blood to hint the manner 
of their going. The last entry ran: 

“Dad says I’m to stay in here 
to-day. Old dear, he’s afraid 
the thing will get me — ^what- 
ever it is. It’s really serious. 
Two men taken from their 
berths last night. And not a 
trace. Some of them think it’s 
a curse on the treasure. One 
of them swears he saw Dad’s 
stuffed specimens moving about 
in the hold. 

“Some terrible thing must 
have slipped aboard the flier, 
out of the jungle. That’s what 
Dad and the captain think. 
Queer they can’t find it. 



SALVAGE IN SPACE 



19 



They’ve searched all over. 

Well. . . .” 

Musing and regretful, Thad 
turned back for another look at the 
smiling girl in the photograph. 

What a tragedy her death had 
been! Reading the diary had made 
him like her. Her balance ‘and hu- 
mor. Her quiet affection for “Dad.” 
The calm courage with which she 
seemed to have faced the creeping, 
lurking death that darkened the 
ship with its unescapable shadow. 

How had her body come to be 
in the coffer, he wondered, when 
all the others v/ere — gone? It had 
shown no marks of violence. She 
must have died of fear. No, her 
face had seemed too calm and 
peaceful for that. Had she chosen 
easy death by some poison, rather 
than that other dreadful fate? Had 
her body been put in the chest to 
protect it, and the poison arrested 
decomposition? 

Thad was still studying the pic- 
ture, thoughtfully and sadly, when 
the dog, which had been silent, 
suddenly growled again, and re- 
treated from the door, toward the 
corner of the room. 

The invisible monster had re- 
turned. Thad heard its claws 
scratching across the door again. 
And he heard another dreadful 
sound — not the long, shrill scream 
that had so grated on his nerves 
before, but a short, sharp cough- 
ing or barking, a series of shrill, 
indescribable notes that could have 
been made by no beast he knew. 

T he decision to open the door 
cost a huge effort of Thad’s 

will. 

For hours he had waited, think- 
ing desperately. And the thing out- 
side the door had waited as patient- 
ly, scratching upon it from time to 
time, uttering those dreadful, shrill 
coughing cries. 

Sooner or later, he would have 



to face the monster. Even if he 
could escape from the room and 
avoid it for a time, he would have 
to meet it in the end. And it might 
creep upon him while he slept. 

To be sure, the iSsue of the com- 
bat was extremely doubtful. The 
monster, apparently, had succeeded 
in killing every man upon the flier, 
even though some of them had 
been armed. It must be large and 
very ferocious. 

But Thad was not without hope. 
He still wore his Osprey-suit. The 
heavy fabric, made of metal wires 
impregnated with a tough, elastic 
composition, should afford con- 
siderable protection against the 
thing. 

The welding arc, intended to fuse 
refractive meteoric iron, would be 
no mean weapon, at close quarters. 
And the quarters would be close. 

If only he could And some way 
to make the thing visible ! 

Paint, or something of the kind, 
would stick to its skin. . . . His 
eyes, searching the room, caught 
the jar of face powder on the dress- 
ing table. Dash that over it ! It 
ought to stick enough to make the 
outline visible. 

So, at last, holding the powder 
ready in one hand, he waited until 
a time when the pressure upon the 
door had just relaxed, and he knew 
the monster was waiting outside. 
Swiftly, he opened the door. . . . 

T had had partially overcome 
the instinctive horror that the 
unseen being had first aroused in 
him. But it returned in a sickening 
wave when he heard the short, 
shrill, coughing cries, hideously 
eager, that greeted the opening of 
the door. And the quick rasping 
of naked claws upon the floor. 
Sounds from nothingness! 

He flung the powder at the 
sound. 

A form of weird horror materi- 
alized before him, still half invis- 



20 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



ible, half outlined with the white 
film of adhering powder: gigantic 
and hideous claws, that seemed to 
reach out of empty air, the side of 
a huge, scaly body, a yawning, 
dripping jaw. For a moment Thad 
could see great, hooked fangs in that 
jaw. Then they vanished, as if an 
unseen tongue had licked the pow- 
der from them, dissolving it in 
fluids which made it invisible. 

That unearthly, half-seen shape 
leaped at him. 

He was carried backward into 
the room, hurled to the floor. Claws 
were rasping upon the tough fabric 
of his suit. His arm was seized 
crushingly in half-visible jaws. 

D esperately he dung to 

the welding tool. The heated 
electrode was driven toward his 
body. He fought to keep it away; 
he knew that it would burn through 
even the insulated fabric of his suit. 

A claw ripped savagely at his 
side. He heard the sharp, rending 
sound, as the tough fabric of his 
suit was torn, and felt a thin pen- 
cil of pain drawn along his body, 
where a claw cut his skin. 

Suddenly the suit was full of the 
earthy fetor of the monster’s body, 
nauseatingly intense. Thad gasped, 
tried to hold his breath, and thrust 
upward hard with the incandescent 
electrode. He felt warm blood 
trickling from the wound. 

A numbing blow struck his arm. 
The welding tool was carried from 
his hand. Flung to the side of the 
room, it clattered to the floor; and 
then a heavy weight came upon his 
chest, forcing the breath from his 
lungs. The monster stood upon his 
body and clawed at him. 

Thad squirmed furiously. He 
kicked out with his feet, encoun- 
tering a great, hard body. Futilely 
he beat and thrust with his arms 
against the pillarlike limb. 

His body was being mauled, 
bruised beneath the thick fabric. 



He heard it tear again, along his 
right thigh. But he felt no pain, 
and thought the claws had not 
reached the skin. 

It was the yellow dog that gave 
him the chance to recover the 
weapon. The animal had been run- 
ning back and forth in the opposite 
end of the room, fairly howling in 
excitement and terror. Now, with 
the mad courage of desperation, it 
leaped recklessly at the monster. 

A mighty, dimly seen claw caught 
it, hurled it back across the room. 
It lay still, broken, whimpering. 

For a riioment the thing had lift- 
ed its weight from Thad’s body. 
And Thad slipped quickly from be- 
neath it, flung himself across the 
room, snatched up the welding tool. 

In an instant the creature was 
upon him again. But he met it with 
the incandescent electrode. He was 
crouched in a corner, now, where it 
could come at him from only one 
direction. Its claws still slashed at 
him ferociously. But he was able 
to cling to the weapon, and meet 
each onslaught with hot metal. 

Gradually its mad attacks weak- 
ened. Then one of his blind, thrust- 
ing blows seemed to burn into a 
vital organ. A terrible choking, 
strangling sound came from the air. 
And he heard the thrashing strug- 
gles of wild convulsions. At last 
all was quiet. He prodded the thing 
again and again with the hot elec- 
trode, and it did not move. It was 
dead. 

The creature’s body was so heavy 
that Thad had to return to the 
bridge, and shut off the current in 
the gravity plates along the keel, 
before he could move it. He 
dragged it to the lock through 
which he had entered the flier, and 
consigned it to space. . . . 

F ive days later Thad brought 
the Red Dragon into the at- 
mosphere of Mars. A puzzled pilot 
came aboard, in response to his 



SALVAGE IN SPACE 



21 



signals, and docked the flier safely 
at Helion. Thad went down into 
the hold again, with the astonished 
port authorities who had come 
aboard to inspect the vessel. 

Again he passed among the gro- 
tesque and outrageous monsters in 
the hold, leading the gasping offi- 
cers. While they marveled at the 
treasure, he lifted the weirdly em- 
bellished lid of the coffer of white 
crystal, and looked once more upon 
the still form of the girl within it. 

Pity stirred him. An ache came 
in his throat. 

Linda Cross, so quiet and cold 
and white, and yet so lovely. How 
terrible her last days of life must 
have been, with doom shadowing 
the vessel, and the men vanishing 
mysteriously, one by one! Terrible 
— until she had sought the security 
of death. 

Strangely, Thad felt no great 
elation at the thought that half the 
incalculable treasure about him was 
now safely his own, as the award 
of salvage. If only the girl were 
still living. , . . Ke felt a poignant- 
ly keen desire to hear her voice. 

Thad found the note when they 
started to lift her from the chest. 
A hasty scrawl, it lay beneath her 
head, among glittering gems. 

“This woman is not dead. 
Please have her given skilled 
medical attention as soon as 
possible. She lies in a state of 
suspended animation, induced 
by the injection of fifty minims 
of zeronel. 

“She is my daughter, Linda 
Cross, and my sole heir. 

“I entreat the finders of this 
to have care given her, and to 
keep in trust for her such part 
of the treasure on this ship 
as may remain after the pay- 
ment of salvage or other claims. 

“Sometime she will wake. 
Perhaps in a year, perhaps in 
a hundred. The purity of my 



drugs is uncertain, and the in- 
jection was made hastily, so I 
do not know the exact time 
that must elapse. 

“If this is found, it will be 
because the lurking thing upon 
the ship has destroyed me and 
all my men. 

“Please do not fail me. 

Levington Cross.” 

Thad bought the white tower of 
his dreams, slim and graceful in 
its Martian garden of Saffron and 
purple, among the low ocher hills 
beside Helion. He carried the 
sleeping girl through the silver 
door where the girl of his dreams 
had waited, and set the coffer in a 
great, vaulted chamber. Many times 
each day he came into the room 
where she lay, to look intp her 
pallid face, and feel her cold wrist. 
He kept a nurse in attendance, and 
had a physican call daily. 

A long Martian year went by. 

L ooking in his mirror one 
day, Thad saw little wrinkles 
about his eyes. He realized that the 
nervous strain and anxiety of wait- 
ing was aging him. And it might 
be a hundred years, he remembered, 
before Linda Cross came from be- 
neath the drugs’ influence. 

He wondered if he should grow 
old and infirm, while Linda lay 
still young and beautiful and un- 
changed in her sleep; if she might 
awake, after long years, and see in 
him only a feeble old man. And he 
knew that he would not be sorry 
he had waited, even if he should 
die before she revived. 

On the next day, the nurse 
called him into the room where 
Linda lay. He was bending over her 
when she opened her eyes. They 
were blue, glorious. 

A long time she looked up at 
him, first in fearful wonder, then 
with confidence, and dawning un- 
derstanding. And at last she smiled. 




Lords of the 



Stratosphere 



A Complete Novelette 



By Arthur J. Burks 



CHAPTER I 

The Take-off 

I T seemed only fitting and 
proper that the greatest of all 
leaps into space should start 
from Roosevelt Field, where so 
many great flights had begun and 
ended. Fliers whose names had 
rung — for a space — around the 
world, had landed here and been 
received by New 
York with all the 
pomp of visiting 
kings. Fliers had 
departed here for 



the lands of kings, to be received 
by them when their journeys were 
ended. 

Of course Lucian Jeter and Tema 
Eyer were disappointed that Franz 
Kress had beaten them out in the 
race to be first into the strato- 
sphere above fifty-five thousand 
feet. There was a chance that Kress 
would fail, when it would be the 
turn of Jeter and Eyer. They didn’t 
wish for his fail- 
ure, of course. 
They were sports- 
men as well as 
scientists; but 



High into air are the great New 
York buildings lifted by a ray whose 
source no telescope can find. 



22 





23 





24 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



they were just human enough to 
anticipate the plaudits of the world 
which would be showered without 
stint upon the fliers who succeeded. 

“At least, Tema,” said Jeter 
quietly, “we can look his ship over 
and see if there is anything about 
it that will suggest something to 
us. Of course, whether he succeeds 
of fails, we shall make the attempt 
as soon as we are ready.” 

“Indeed, yes,” replied Eyer. “For 
no man will ever fly so high that 
another may not fly even higher. 
Once planes are constructed of un- 
limited flying radius . . . well, the 
universe is large and there should 
be no end of space flights for a 
long time.” 

Eyer, the elder of the two part- 
ner scientists, was given sometimes 
to quiet biting sarcasm that almost 
took the hide off. Jeter never mind- 
ed greatly, for he knew Eyer thor- 
oughly and liked him immensely. 
Besides they were complements to 
each other. The brain of each re- 
ceived from the other exactly that 
which he needed to supplement his 
own knowledge of science. 

They had one other thing in com- 
mon. They had been “child prodi- 
gies,” but contrary to the usual 
rule, they had both fulfilled their 
early promise. Their early preco- 
cious wisdom had not vanished with 
the passing of childhood. Each pos- 
sessed a name with which to con- 
jure in the world of science. And 
each possessed that name by right 
of having made it famous. And yet 
—they were under forty. 

Jeter was a slender athletic chap 
with deep blue eyes and brown hair. 
His forehead was high and unnat- 
urally white. There was always a 
still sort of tenseness about him 
when his mind was working with 
some idea that set him apart from 
the rest of the world. You felt then 
that you couldn’t have broken his 
preoccupation in any manner at all 
— ^but that if by some miracle you 



did, he would wither you with his 
wrath. 

Tema Eyer was the good nature 
of the partnership, with a brain no 
less agile and profound. He was a 
swart fellow, straight as an arrow, 
black of eyes — the sort which 
caused both men and women to 
turn and look after him on the 
street. Children took to both men 
on sight. 

The crowd which had come out 
to watch the take-off of Franz 
Kress was a huge one — huge and 
restless. There had been much pub- 
licity attendant on this flight, none 
of it welcome to Kress. Oh, later, 
if he succeeded, he v/ould welcome 
publicity, but publicity in advance 
rather nettled him. 

Jeter and Eyer went across to 
him as he was saying his last words 
into the microphone before step- 
ping into his sealed cabin for the 
flight. Kress saw them coming and 
his face lighted up. 

“Lord,” he said, “I’m glad to see 
you two. I’ve something I must 
ask you.” 

“Anything you ask will be an- 
swered,” said Jeter, “if Tema and 
I can answer it. Or granted — if it’s 
a favor you wish.” 

Kress motioned people back in 
order to speak more or less pri- 
vately with his brother scientists. 
His face became unusually grave. 

“You’ve probably wondered — 
everybody has — ^why I insist on 
making this flight alone,” he said, 
speaking just loudly enough to be 
heard above the purring of the 
mighty, but almost silent motor be- 
hind him. “I’ll tell you, partly. 
I’ve had a feeling for the last 
month that . . . well, that things 
may not turn out exactly as every- 
body hopes. Of course I’ll blaze 
the way to new discoveries; yes, 
and I’ll climb to a height of around 
a hundred thousand feet . . . and 
. . , and. . . .” 

Jeter and Eyer looked at each 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



25 



other. It wasn’t like Kress to be 
gloomy just before doing some- 
thing that no man had ever done 
before. He should have been smil- 
ing and happy — at least for the 
movietone cameras — but he wasn’t 
even that. Certainly it must be 
something unusual to so concern 
him. 

“Tell us, Kress,” said Eyer. 

Kress looked at them both for 
several moments. 

“Just this,” he said at last: 
“work on your own high altitude 
plane with all possible speed. If I 
don’t come back . . . take off and 
follow me into the stratosphere at 
once.” 

Had Kress, possessor of one of 
the keenest scientific minds in the 
world, taken leave of his senses? 
“If I don’t come back,” he had 
said. What did he expect to do? 
Fly oi¥ the earth utterly? That 
was silly. 

But when the partners looked 
aghin at Kress they both had the 
same feeling. It probably wasn’t as 
silly as it sounded. Did Kress 
know something he wasn’t telling 
them? Did he really think he might 
. . . well, might fly off the earth 
entirely, away beyond her atmos- 
phere, and never return? How ut- 
terly absurd! And yet. . . , 

“Of course we’ll do it,” said 
Jeter. “We’d do it anyway, without 
word from you. We haven’t stopped 
our own work because of your 
swiftly approaching conquest of the 
greater heights. But why shouldn’t 
you come back?” 

F or a moment there was a look 
of positive dread upon Kress’ 
face. 

Then he spoke again, very 
quietly: 

“You know all the stuff that’s 
been written about my flight,” he 
said. “Most of it has been non- 
sense. How could laymen news- 
paper reporters have any concep- 



tion of what I may encounter 
aloft? They’ve tried to make some- 
thing of the recent passage of the 
Earth through an area of so-called 
shooting stars. They’ve speculated 
until they’re black in the face as to 
the true nature of the recent bom- 
bardment of meteorites. They’ve 
pictured me as a hero in advance, 
doomed to death by direct attack 
from what they are pleased to call 
— after having invented them — 
denizens of the stratosphere.” 

“Yes?” said Jeter, when Kress 
paused. 

Kress toop a deep breath. 

“They’ve come nearer than they 
hoped for in some guesses,” he 
said, “Of course I don’t know it, 
but I’ve had a feeling for some 
time. You know what sometimes 
happens v^hen a man gets a sudden 
revolutionary idea? He concen- 
trates on it like all get-out. Then 
somebody else bursts into the 
newspapers with the same identical 
idea, which in turn brings out 
hordes of claims to the same idea 
by countless other people. It’s no 
new thing to writers and such-like 
gentry. They know that when they 
get such an idea they must act on 
it at once or somebody else will, 
because their thoughts on the sub- 
ject have gone forth and impinged 
upon the mental receiving sets of 
others. Well, that’s a rough idea, 
an3Tway. This idea of denizens of 
the stratosphere has attacked the 
popular imagination. You’ll remem- 
ber it broke in the papers simul- 
taneously, in thirty countries of 
the world!” 

A cold chill ran down the spine 
of Tema Eyer. He saw, in a flash, 
whither Kress’ thoughts were 
tending — and when he saw that, it 
thrilled him, too, for it seemed to 
be proof of the very thing Kress 
was saying. 

“You mean,” he said hoarsely, 
“that you too think there may be 
something up there, something . . . 



26 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



well, sensate? Some great compos- 
ite thought which inspires the gen- 
eral dread of stratosphere deni- 
zens?” 

Kress shrugged. He wouldn’t 
commit himself, being too careful 
a scientist, but he hadn’t hesitated 
to plant the idea. Jeter and Eyer 
both understood the thoughts which 
were teeming in Kress’ brain. 

“We’ll do our part, Kress,” said 
Eyer. Lucian Jeter nodded agree- 
ment. Kress gripped their hands 
tightly — almost desperately, Jeter 
thought. Jeter was usually the 
leader where Eyer and himself 
were concerned and he thought al- 
ready that he foresaw cataclysmic 
events. 

K ress cUmbed into his plane. 

The vast crowd murmured. 
They knew he was adjusting every- 
thing inside for the days-long en- 
durance test ahead of him. Kress 
had forgotten nothing. There was 
even a specially made cylinder, 
comparable to the globe which 
Picard had used in his historic bal- 
loon ascensions in Europe. This 
was attached to a parachute which, 
if the emergency arose, could be 
dropped. Kress, in the ball, could 
pass through the sub-arctic cold of 
the stratosphere if necessity de- 
manded. The ball, if it struck the 
ocean, would preserve him for a 
great length of time. It was even 
equipped with rockets. 

This plane was revolutionary. It 
was, to begin with, carrying a vast 
load. Kress was taking every con- 
ceivable kind of instrument he fan- 
cied he might need. There was food 
as for a long siege. 

Jeter shuddered. Why had he 
thought of the word “siege”? 

The great load would be carried 
without difficulty, however, for this 
plane was little short of a miracle. 
Among other things, Kress would 
be able, in case of fatigue, to set 
his controls — as at sea a pilot may 



sometimes lash his wheel — and 
sleep while his plane mounted on 
up, and up, in great spirals. 

Up beyond fifty-five thousand he 
hoped to attain a thousand miles 
an hour velocity. That meant, say, 
breakfast in New York, lunch in 
London, tea in Novo-Sibirsk, din- 
ner in Yokohama — as soon as the 
myriad planes which would follow 
this one in design and capabilities 
took off on the trail Kress was 
blazing. 

Jeter sighed at the thought. For 
several years he had explored little- 
known sections of the world. He 
had visited every country. He had 
entered every port that could be 
reached from the ocean — and all 
the time he had felt the Earth 
shrinking before the gods of speed. 
The time would soon come when 
everything on Earth would be com- 
monplace. Then 'man’s urge to go 
places he hadn’t seen before would 
take him away from the Earth en- 
tirely — when he would begin the 
task of making even the universe 
shrink to appease the gods of 
speed. Somehow the thought was a 
melancholy one. 

Now the crowd gave back as 
Kress speeded up his motor, indi- 
cating that he would -soon take off. 
Jeter and Eyer studied the outward 
outline of Kress’ craft. It looked 
exactly like a black beetle which 
has just alighted after flight but 
has not yet quite hidden its wings. 
It was black, probably because it 
was believed a black object could 
be followed easier from the Earth. 

There would be many anxious 
eyes watching that spiraling ship 
as it grew smaller and smaller, 
climbing upward. 

With a rush, and a spinning of 
dust in the slipstream, the ship was 
away. It lifted as easily as a bird 
and mounted with great speed. It 
was capable of climbing in wide 
spirals at a hundred and fifty miles 
an hour. 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



27 



A great sigh burst from the 
thousands who had come to watch 
history made. For solid hours now 
they would watch the plane climb, 
growing smaller, becoming a speck, 
vanishing. Many curious ones 
would stay right here until Kress 
returned, fearful of being cheated 
of a great thrill. For Kress was to 
land right here when, and if, he 
had conquered the stratosphere. 

J ETER and Eyer wormed their 
way through the crowd to the 
road and found their car in a jam 
of other cars. Without a word they 
climbed in and drove themselves to 
their dwelling — combined home and 
laboratory — in Mineola. There they 
fell to on their own ship, which 
was being built piece by piece in 
their laboratory. 

Every half hour or so one or the 
other would go to the lawn and 
gaze aloft, seeking Kress. 

“He’s out of eyesight,” said Eyer, 
the last to go. “Is the telescope 
set up?” 

“Yes, and arranged to cover all 
the area of sky through which 
Kress is likely to climb.” 

At intervals through the night, 
long after they had ceased work, 
the partners rose from bed and 
sought their fellow scientist among 
the stars. They alternated at this 
task. 

“According to my calculations,” 
said Jeter, when the eastern sky 
was just paling into dawn, “KresS^ 
has now reached a point higher 
than man has ever flown before, 
higher than any living — ” 

Jeter stopped on the word. Both 
men remembered Kress’ last words. 
Kress, upset or not, properly or 
improperly, had hinted of living 
things in the stratosphere — perhaps 
utterly malignant entities. 

It was just here, in the dawning 
of the first day after Kress’ de- 
parture, that the dread began to 
grow on Jeter and Eyer. And dur- 



ing the day they labored like Tro- 
jans at their work, as though to 
forget it. 

The world had begun its grim 
wait for the return of Kress. 

They waited all that day . . . 
and the next . . . and the next! 

Then telegraph and radio, at the 
suggestion of Jeter, instructed the 
entire civilized world to turn its 
eyes skyward to watch for the re- 
turn of Kress. 

The world obeyed that day . . . 
and the next . . . and the next! 

But Kress did not return; nor, 
so far as the world knew, did any 
or all of his great airplane. 

The world itself began to have § 
feeling of dread — that grew. 

CHAPTER II 

The Ghostly Columns 

F ranz KRESS had been gone 
a week, when all the world 
knew that he couldn’t possibly have 
stayed aloft that length of time. 
Yet no word was received from 
him, no report received from any 
part of the world that he had re- 
turned. Various islands which he 
might have reached were scoured 
for traces of him. The lighter ves- 
sels of most of the navies of the 
world joined in the search to no 
avail. Kress had merely mounted 
into the sky and vanished. 

The world’s last word from him 
had been a few words on the radio- 
telephone : 

“Have reached sixty thousand 
feet and — ” 

There the message had ended, as 
though the speaker, eleven miles 
above the earth, had been stran- 
gled. Yet he didn’t drop, as far as 
anybody in the world knew. 

Lucian Jeter and Tema Eyer 
worked harder than ever, remem- 
bering the promise they had made 
Kress at his take-off. Whatever had 
happened to him, he seemingly in 
part had anticipated. And now the 



28 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



partners would go up, too, seeking 
information — perhaps to vanish as 
Kress had vanished. They were not 
afraid. They shared the world’s 
feeling of dread, but they were not 
afraid. Of course death would end 
their labors, but there were many 
scientists in the world to take up 
where they might leave off. 

There were, for example, Sitsumi 
of Japan, rumored discoverer of a 
substance capable of bending light 
rays about itself to render itself 
invisible; Wang Li, Liao Wu, 
Yung Chan, of China — three who 
had degrees from the world’s great- 
est universities and had added 
miraculously to the store of 
knowledge by their own inspired 
research. These three were patri- 
otically eager to bring China back 
to her rightful place as the leader 
in scientific research — a place she 
had not held for a thousand years. 
It was generally agreed among sci- 
entists that the three would shortly 
outstrip all their contemporaries. 

As Jeter thought of these four 
men. Orientals all, it suddenly oc- 
curred to him to communicate with 
them. He talked it over with Eyer 
and decided to send carefully word- 
ed cables to all four. 

In a few hours he received an- 
swers to them; 

From Japan: “Sitsumi does not 
care to communicate.” There was a 
world of cold hostility in the 
words, Jeter thought, and Eyer 
agreed with him. 

From China came the strangest 
message of all: 

“Wang, Liao and Yung have 
been cut off from world for past 
four months, conducting confiden- 
tial research in Gobi laboratories. 
Impossible to communicate because 
area in which laboratories situated 
in Japanese hands and surrounded 
by cordon of guards.” 

Jeter and Eyer stared at each 
other when the cable had been read 
and digested. 



“Queer, isn’t it?” said Eyer. 
Jeter didn’t answer. That pre- 
occupied expression was on his 
face, that distant look which no 
man could erase from his face by 
any interruption until Jeter had 
finished his train of thought. 

“Queer,” thought Jeter, “that 
Sitsumi should be so snooty and 
the three Chinese totally unavail- 
able.” 

T here were many strange 
things happening lately, too, 
and the queer things kept on hap- 
pening, and in ever-increasing num- 
bers, during the second week of 
Kress’ impossible absence in the 
stratosphere. Or was he there? Had 
he ever reached it? Had he — Jeter 
and Eyer had noticed his utter 
gloom at the take-off — merely 
climbed out of sight of the Earth 
and then slanted down to a dive 
into the ocean? Maybe he was a 
suicide. But some bits of wreckage 
of his plane should have turned up. 
The plane had many unsinkable 
parts about it — the parachute ball 
for instance. 

No, the solemn fact remained 
that Kress had simply flown up 
and hadn’t come down again. It 
would have sounded silly and ab- 
surd if it hadn’t been so serious. 

And strange stories were seep- 
ing into the press of the world. 

Out in Wyoming a cattleman had 
driven a herd of prime steers into 
the round-up corral at night. Next 
morning not one of the steers 
could be found. No tracks led away 
from the corral. The gates were 
closed, exactly as they had been 
left the night before. There had 
been no cowboys watching the 
steers, for the corral had always 
been strong enough to hold the 
most rambunctious. 

The tale of the missing steers hit 
the headlines, but so far nobody 
had thought of this disappearance 
in connection with Kress’. How 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



29 



could any one? Steers and scientists 
didn’t go together. But it still was 
strange. 

At least so Jeter thought. His 
mind worked with this and other 
strange happenings even as he and 
Eyer worked at top speed. 

A young fellow in Arizona told 
a yarn of wandering about the 
crater of a meteor which had fallen 
on the desert thousands of years 
before. The place wasn’t important 
nor did it seem to have anything to 
do with the crater or meteors — but 
the young fellow reported that he 
had seen a faded white column of 
light, like the beam of a great 
searchlight, reaching up into the 
sky from somewhere on the desert. 

When people became amazed at 
his story he added to it. There had 
been five columns of light instead 
of one. The one he had first men- 
tioned had touched the Earth, or 
had shot up from the Earth, with- 
in several miles of his point of 
vantage. A second glowed off to 
the northwest, a third to the south- 
west, a fourth to the southeast, the 
fifth to the northeast. The first one 
seemed to “center” the other four 
— they might have been the five legs 
of a table, according to their ar- 
rangement. . . . 

Arrangement! Jeter wondered 
how that word had happened to 
come to him. 

T he story of the fellow who 
had seen the columns of light 
might have been believed if he had 
stuck to his first yarn of seeing but 
one. But when he mentioned five 
. . . well, he didn’t have any too 
good a reputation for veracity and 
wasn’t regarded as being overly 
bright. Besides, he had stated that 
the thickness of the columns of 
light seemed to be the same from 
the ground as far as his eyes could 
follow them upward. Everybody 
knew that a searchlight’s beams 
spread out a bit. 



“I wonder,” thought Jeter, “why 
the kid didn’t say he saw those five 
columns move — like a five-legged 
animal, walking.” 

Silly, of course, but behind the 
silliness of the thought Jeter 
thought there might be something 
of interest, something on which to 
work. 

The Jeter-Eyer space ship still 
was not finished — though almost — 
when the world moved into the 
third week since the disappearance 
of Franz Kress. 

An Indian in the Southwest had 
reported seeing one of those col- 
umns of light. However, this mer- 
ited just a line on about page six- 
teen, even of the newspaper clos- 
est to the spot where the redskin 
had seen the column. 

“Eyer,” said Jeter at last, “we’ve 
got to start digging into news- 
paper stories, especially into stories 
which deal with unusually queer 
happenings throughout the world. 
I’ve a hunch that the keys to 
Kress’ disappearance may be found 
in some of them, or a combination 
of a great many of them.” 

“How do you mean, Lucian?” 
“Don’t you notice that all this 
queer stuff has been happening 
since Kress left? It sounds silly, 
perhaps, but I feel sure that the 
disappearance of those steers in 
Wyoming, the story the boy told 
about the columns of light — ^^yes, 
all five of them! — and the Indian’s 
partial confirmation of it, are all 
tied up together with the disap- 
pearance of Kress.” 

E yer started to grin his dis- 
belief, but a look at his part- 
ner’s tense face stopped him. 

“What could want all those 
steers, Lucian?” said Eyer softly. 
“I can’t think of anything or any- 
body disposing of such a bunch 
on such short notice, except a 
marching army, a marching column 
of soldier ants, or all the world’s 



30 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



buzzards gathered together at one 
place. In any case the animals 
themselves would have created a 
fuss, would have kicked up so 
much noise that somebody v/ould 
have heard. But this story of the 
steers seems to suggest, or say 
right out loud — though I know you 
can’t believe everything in the 
newspapers — ^that the steers van- 
ished in utter silence.” 

“Doesn’t it also seem funny to 
you,” went on Jeter, “that the van- 
ishing of the herd v/asn’t discov- 
ered until next morning? I’ve read 
enough Western stuff to know that 
a herd always makes noise. Yes, 
even at night. The cowhands 
wouldn’t have lost a v.?ink of sleep 
over that. But, listen, Tema, sup- 
pose you lived in New York City 
near some busy intersection which 
was always noisy, even after mid- 
night — and all the noise suddenly 
stopped. 'Would you sleep right on 
through it?” 

“No, I’d wake up — unless I were 
drunk or doped.” 

“Yet nobody seems to have wak- 
ened at that ranch when — and it 
must have happened— the herd 

stopped making any noise whatever. 
The utter silence should have wak- 
ened seasoned cowhands. It didn’t. 
Why? What happened to them 
that they slept so soundly they 
heard nothing?” 

Eyer did not answer. It wasn’t 
the first time he had been called 
upon to hear Jeter think out loud. 

“It all ties up somehow,” repeat- 
ed Jeter, “and I intend to find out 
how.” 

But he didn’t find out. Strange 
stories kept appearing. The three 
Chinese scientists still had not com- 
municated with the outside world. 
The chap out in Arizona had now 
so elaborated on his yarn that no- 
body believed him and the public 
lost interest — all save Jeter, who 
was on the trail of a queer idea. 

Nothing happened however until 



near the end of the third week 
after Kress’ disappearance. 

Then, out of a clear sky almost, 
Kress came back. 

He came down by parachute, 
without the ball in which he should 
have sealed himself. His return 
caused plenty of comment. There 
was good reason. He had been gone 
thefimpossibly long period of three 
weeks. 

He was dead — but had been for 
less than seventy-two hours! 

His body was frozen solid. 

It landed on the roof of the 
Jeter-Eyer laboratory; had he been 
alive he couldn’t possibly have 
maneuvered his chute to land him 
on such a small place. 

The partners stared at each other. 
It seemed strange to them indeed 
that Kress should have come back 
to land on the roof of the two who 
had promised to follow him into 
the stratosphere if he didn’t return. 

'Very strange indeed. 

He had returned, though, releas- 
ing Jeter and Eyer from their 
promise. Strangely enough that fact 
made thern all the more determined 
to go. And while the newspaper 
reporters went wild over Kress’ 
return, the partners started making 
additional plans. 

CHAPTER III 

Strange Levitation 

“X N two days we’ll be ready, 
X Tema,” said Lucian Jeter 
quietly. “And make no mistake 
about it; when we^ take off for the 
stratosphere we’re going to en- 
counter strange things. Nobody can 
tell me that Kress’ plane actually 
flew three weeks! And where did 
it come down? Why didn’t Kress 
use the parachute ball? Where ^is 
it? I’ll wager we’ll find answers to 
plenty of those questions — if we 
live!” 

“If we live?” repeated Eyer. 
“You mean—?” 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



31 



“You know what happened to 
Kress? Or rather you know the 
result of what happened to him?” 

“Sure.” 

“Why should we be immune? I 
tell you, Eyer, we’re on the eve of 
something colossal, awe-inspiring — 
perhaps catastrophic.” 

Eyer grinned. Jeter grinned back 
at him. If they knew they flew in- 
escapably to death they still would 
have grinned. They had plenty of 
courage. 

“We’d better go into town for a 
meeting with newspaper people,” 
went on Jeter. “You know how 
things go in the news; there are 
probably plenty of stories which 
for one reason or another have not 
been published. Maybe the law has 
clamped down on some of them. 
I’ve a feeling that if everything 
were told, the whole world would 
be frightened stiff. And you notice 
how quickly the papers finished 
with the Kress thing.” 

Eyer knew, all right. The papers 
had broken the story of the return 
in flaming scareheads. Then the 
thing had come to a full stop. It 
was significant that no real satis- 
factory explanation had been of- 
fered by any one. The papers had, 
on their own initiative, tried to 
communicate with Sitsumi, and the 
three Chinese scientists, and had 
failed all around. Sitsumi did not 
answer, denied himself to repre- 
sentatives of the American press in 
Japan, and crawled into an impene- 
trable Oriental shell. The three 
Chinese could not answer, accord- 
ing to advices from Peking, be- 
cause they could not be located. 

Jeter called the publisher of the 
leading newspaper for a confer- 
ence. 

“Strange that you should have 
called just now,” said the publisher, 
“for I was on the point of calling 
you and Eyer and inviting you to 
a conference to be held this eve- 
ning at my office in Manhattan.” 



“What’s the purpose of your con- 
ference? Who will attend?” 

“I — I — well, let us say I had 
hoped to make you and Eyer avail- 
able to all interviewers on the eve 
of your flight into the strato- 
sphere.” 

Jeter hesitated, realizing that the 
publisher did not wish to tell 
everything over the telephone. 

“We’ll be right along, sir,” he 
said. 

I T took an hour for them to 
reach the publisher’s office. 
Wires had plainly been pulled, too, 
for a motorcycle escort joined 
them at the Queensboro Bridge 
and led them, sirens screaming, to 
their meeting with George Hadley, 
the publisher. 

They looked at each other in sur- 
prise when they were admitted to 
the meeting. 

Hadley’s huge offices were 
packed. The mayor was there, the 
police commissioner, the assistant 
to the head of Federal Secret Ser- 
vice. The State Governor had sent a 
representative. All the newspapers 
had their most famous men sitting 
in. Right in this one big room was 
represented almost the entire pub- 
lic opinion of the United States. 
American representatives of for- 
eign nev/spapers were there. And 
there wasn’t a smile on a single 
face. 

It was beginning to be borne in 
upon everybody that the Western 
Hemisphere was in the grip of a 
strange unearthly malady — almost 
an other-earthly malady, but what 
v/as it? 

Hadley nodded to the two scien- 
tists and they took the seats he 
indicated. 

Hadley cleared his throat and 
spoke. 

“We have here people who rep- 
resent the press of the world,” he 
said. “We have men who control 
billions in money. I don’t know 



32 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



how many of you have thought 
along the same lines as I have, but 
I feel that after I have finished 
speaking most of you will. First, 
there are certain news stories 
which, for reasons of policy, never 
reach the pages of our papers. I 
shall now tell you some of 
them. . . .” 

The whole crowd shifted slightly 
in its chairs. There was a strained 
leaning forward. Grave faces went 
whiter as they anticipated gripping 
announcements. 

“All the strange things have not 
been happening in the United 
States, gentlemen,” said Hadley. 
“That young fellow who reported 
seeing the columns of light in Ari- 
zona — you remember? — ” 

There was a chorus of nods. 

“He probably told the exact 
truth, as far as he knew it. But it 
isn’t only in Arizona that it has 
been seen — those columns I mean. 
Only there is just one column — 
not five. It has since been reported 
in Nepal and Bhutan, in Egypt 
and Morocco and a dozen other 
places. But in the cases of such 
stories emanating from foreign 
countries, a congress of publishers 
has withheld the facts, not because 
of their strangeness but because of 
the effect they might have on the 
public sanity. In Nepal, for exam- 
ple, the column of light rested for 
a moment on an ancient temple, 
and when the light vanished the 
temple also had vanished, with 
everybody in it at the time for 
worship! Rumor had it that some 
of the worshipers were later found 
and identified. They appear to have 
been scattered over half of Nepal 
— and every last one was smashed 
almost to a pulp, as though the 
body had been dropped from an 
enormous height.” 

A concerted gasp raced around 
the assemblage. Then silence again, 
while the pale-faced Hadley went 
on with his unbelievable story. 



“ A MAD story comes from the 
heart of the terai, in India. 
I don’t know what importance to 
give this story since the only wit- 
nesses to the phenomenon were ig- 
norant natives. But the column of 
light played into the terai — and 
tigers, huge snakes, buffalo and 
even elephants rose bodily over the 
treetops and vanished. They started 
up slowly — then disappeared with 
the speed of light.” 

“Were crushed animals later 
found in the jungle?” asked Jeter 
quietly. 

Hadley turned his somber eyes on 
the questioner. Every white face, 
every fearful eye, also turned 
toward Jeter. 

And Hadley nodded. 

“It’s too much to be coinci- 
dence,” he said. “The crushed and 
broken bodies in Nepal and India 
— of course they aren’t so far apart 
but that natives in either place 
might have heard the story from 
the other — but I am inclined to be- 
lieve in the inner truth of the 
stories in each case.” 

Hadley turned to the two scien- 
tists. There were other scientists 
present, but the fact that Jeter and 
Eyer, who were so soon to follow 
Kress into the stratosphere — and 
eternity? — held the places of honor 
near the desk of the spokesman, 
was significant. 

“What do you gentlemen think?” 
asked Hadley quietly. 

“There is undoubtedly some con- 
nection between the two happen- 
ings,” said Jeter. “I think Eyer and 
myself will be able to make some 
report on the matter soon. We will 
take off for the stratosphere day 
after to-morrow.” 

“Then you think the same thing 
I do?” said Hadley. “If that is so, 
can’t you start to-morrow? God 
knows what may happen if we de- 
lay longer — ^though what two of 
you can do against something 
which appears to blanket the earth, 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



33 



and strikes from the heavens, I 
don’t know. And yet, the fate of 
your country may be in your 
hands.” 

“We realize that,” said Jeter, 
while Eyer nodded. 

Hadley opened his mouth to make 
some other observation, then closed 
it again, tightly, as a horrible thing 
happened. 

The conference was being held 
on the tenth floor of the Hadley 
building. And just as Hadley 
started to speak the whole build- 
ing began to shake, to tremble as 
with the ague. Jeter turned his eyes 
on the others, to see their faces 
blurred by the vibration of the 
entire building. 

Swiftly then he looked toward 
the windows of the big room. 

Outside the south windows he 
witnessed an unbelievable thing. 
Out there was a twelve-story build- 
ing, and its lighted windows were 
moving — not to right or left, but 
straight up! The movement gave 
the same impression which passing 
windows give to one in an elevator. 
Either that other building was ris- 
ing straight into the air, or the 
Hadley building was sinking into 
the Earth. 

‘^UICK, Hadley!” yelled Jeter. 

“To the roof the fastest way 
possible!” 

Even as Jeter spoke every last 
light in the building across the way 
went out. Jeter knew then that it 
was the other building that was 
moving — and that electrical connec- 
tion with the earth had been sev- 
ered. 

Hadley led the way to the roof, 
four stories above. Fortunately this 
was an old building and they didn’t 
have to wait to travel a hundred 
floors or so. The whole conference 
followed at the heels of Hadley, 
Jeter and Eyer. 

They reached the roof at top 
speed. 



They were first conscious of the 
cries of despair, of disbelief, of 
horror, which rose from the street 
canyons below them. But they for- 
got these the next instant at what 
they saw. 

The Vandercook building, the 
twelve-story building whose lights 
Jeter had seen moving, was rising 
bodily, straight out of the well 
which had been built around it. 
From the building came shrieks and 
cries of mortal terror. Even as the 
conference froze to horrified im- 
mobility, many men and women 
stepped to the ledges of those dark- 
ened windows and plunged out in 
their fear. 

“God!” said Hadley. 

“It’s just as well,” said Jeter in 
a far-away voice, “they haven’t a 
chance anyway!” 

“I know,” replied Hadley. “God, 
Jeter, isn’t there something we can 
do?” 

“I hope to find something,” said 
Jeter. “But just now I’m afraid we 
are helpless.” 

The Vandercook building con- 
tinued to rise. It did not totter; it 
simply rose in its entirety, leaving 
the gaping hole into which, decades 
ago, it had been built. It rose 
straight into the sky, apparently of 
its own volition. No rays of light, 
no supernatural agencies could be 
seen or fancied. The utterly impos- 
sible was happening. A building 
was a-wing. 

Jeter and Eyer looked at each 
other with protruding eyes. 

T hen they looked back at the 
Vandercook, whose base now 
was on a level with the roof of the 
Hadley building. 

“See?” said Hadley. “Not so 
much as a brick falls from the 
foundation. It’s — it’s — ghastly.” 
Jeter would never forget the 
screams of mortal terror which 
came from the lips of the doomed 
who had been working late in the 



34 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



Vandercook building — for, horror 
piled upon horror, those who had 
sought to escape calamity did not 
fall to Earth at all, but, at the same 
speed of the rising building, trav- 
eled skyward with it, human flies 
outside those leering dark windows. 

Then, free of New York’s sky- 
line, the flying building was gone 
with a rush. A thousand feet above 
New York’s tallest building, the 
Vandercook changed direction and 
moved directly into the west. 

The conference watched it 
go. . . . 

“Commissioner,” Jeter yelled at 
the police chief of Manhattan, “get 
word out at once for all lights to 
be put out in the city! Hurry! 
Radio would be fastest.” 

In ten minutes Manhattan was a 
darkened, silent city . . . and now 
the conference could see why Jeter 
had asked for all lights to be ex- 
tinguished. 

Five thousand feet aloft, directly 
over the Hudson River, the Vander- 
cook building now hung motion- 
less — and all eyes saw the thin col- 
umn of light. It came down from 
the dark skies from a vast distance, 
widening to encompass the top of 
the Vandercook building. 

The Vandercook building might 
almost have been a mouse caught in 
the talons of some unbelievable 
night-hawk. 

As though some intellect had just 
realized the significance of New 
York’s sudden darkness; as though 
that intellect had realized that the 
column was ordinarily invisible be- 
cause of Manhattan’s brilliant in- 
candescents, and now was visible in 
the darkness — the column of light 
snapped out. . . . 

“God Almighty! May the Lord of 
Hosts save the world from destruc- 
tion !” 

From New York’s canyons, from 
the roof of the Hadley building, 
came the great composite prayer. 

A whistling shriek, growing sec- 



ond by second into enormous pro- 
portions, came out of the west, 
above the Hudson. 

CHAPTER IV 

Frantic Scheming 

T HERE was no mistaking the 
meaning of that whistling 
shriek. Whatever agency had held 
the Vandercook building aloft had 
now released its uncanny grip on 
the building, and thousands of tons 
of brick and mortar, of stone and 
steel, were plunging down in a 
mass from five thousand feet above 
the Hudson. The same force had 
also released the ill-fated men and 
v/omen who had been carried aloft 
with the building. And there must 
have been hundreds of people in- 
side the building. 

It fell as one piece, that great 
building. It didn’t topple until it 
had almost reached the river and its 
shrieking plunge became meteor- 
like, the sound of its fall monstrous 
beyond imagining. The conference 
above the Hadley building fancied 
they could feel the outward rush of 
air displaced by the falling monster 
— and drew back in fear from the 
edge of the roof. 

The Vandercook struck the sur- 
face of the Hudson and an uprush 
of geysering water for a few sec- 
onds blotted the great building 
from view. Then all Manhattan 
seemed to shudder. Most of it was 
perhaps fancy, but thousands of 
frightened Manhattanites saw that 
fall, heard the whistling, and felt 
the trembling of immovable Man- 
hattan. 

The great columns of water fell 
back into the turbulent Hudson 
which had received the plunging 
building. Not so much as a wooden 
desk showed above the surface as 
far as any one could see from 
shore. Not a soul had been saved. 
Shrieks of the doomed had never 
stopped from the moment the Van- 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



35 



dercook building had started its 
mad journey aloft. 

Jeter whirled on Hadley. 

“Will you see that all my sug- 
gestions are carried out, Hadley?” 
he demanded. 

Hadley, face gray as ashes, 
nodded. 

From Manhattan rose the long 
abysmal wailing of a populace just 
finding its voice of fear after a 
stunning, numbing catastrophe. 

“I’ll do whatever you say, Jeter,” 
said Hadley. “We all agreed before 
the arrival of Eyer and yourself 
that your advice would be followed 
if you chose to give any.” 

“Then listen,” said Jeter, while 
Eyer stood quietly at his elbow, 
missing nothing. “Advise the peo- 
ple of New York to quit the city 
as quietly and in as orderly a man- 
ner as possible. Let the police com- 
missioner look after that. Then get 
word to the leading aviation au- 
thorities, promoters and fliers and 
have them get to our Mineola lab- 
oratory as fast as possible. We’ve 
kept much of the detail of construc- 
tion of our space-ship secret, for 
obvious reasons. But the time has 
come to forget personal aggrandize- 
ment and the world must know all 
we have learned by our labor and 
research. Then see that every manu- 
facturing agency capable of even a 
little of what it will take for the 
program, is drafted to the work— 
by Federal statute if necessary — 
and turn out copies of our plane as 
quickly as God will let you.” 

H ADLEY’S eyes were bulging. 

So were those of the others 
who had crowded close to listen. 
They seemed to think Jeter had 
taken leave of his senses, and yet — 
all had seen the Vandercook build- 
ing perform the utterly impossible. 
Hadley nodded. 

“What do you want with the 
fliers and others at your labora- 
tory?” 



“To listen to the details of con- 
struction of our space ship. Eyer 
will hold a couple of classes to ex- 
plain everything. Then, when v/e’ve 
made things as clear as possible, 
Eyer and I will take off and get 
up to do our best to counteract the 
— ^whatever it is — ^that seems to be 
ruling the stratosphere. We’ll do 
everything possible to hold the in- 
fluences in check until you can 
send up other space ships to our 
assistance.” 

Hadley stared. 

“You speak as though you ex- 
pected to be up for a long time. 
Planes like yours aren’t made over- 
night.” 

“Planes like ours must be made 
almost overnight — and have you 
forgotten that Kress was gone for 
three weeks, and yet had been dead 
but seventy-two hours when he 
landed on our roof? Incidentally, 
Hadley, that fall of his was guid- 
ed by something or someone. He 
didn’t fall on our roof by chance. 
He was dropped there, as a chal- 
lenge to us!” 

“That means?” said Hadley 
hoarsely. 

“That everything we do is known 
to the intelligence of the strato- 
sphere! That every move we make 
is watched!” 

“God!” said Hadley. 

Then Hadley straightened. His 
jaws became firm, his eyes lost 
their fear. He was like a good sol- 
dier receiving orders. 

“All the power of the press will 
be massed to get the country to 
back your suggestions, Jeter. They 
seem good to me. Now get back to 
your ship and leave everything to 
me. Suppose you do encounter 
some intelligence in the strato- 
sphere? How will you combat it, 
especially if it proves inimical — 
which to-night’s horror would seem 
to prove?” 

Jeter shrugged. 

“We’ll take such armament as we 



36 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



have. We have several drums of a 
deadly volatile gas. V/e have guns 
of great power, hurling projectiles 
of great velocity; but I feel all of 
that will be more or less useless. 
The intelligence up there — ^well, it 
knows everything we know and 
far more besides, for do any of us 
know how to strike at the earth 
from the stratosphere? Therefore 
our only weapons must be our own 
intelligence — at least that will be 
the program for Eyer and me. 
Later, when your planes which are 
yet to be built follow us up the 
sky, perhaps they will be better 
armed. I hope to be able to com- 
municate information somehow, 
relative to whatever we find.” 
Hadley thrust out his hand. 

“Good luck,” he said simply. 

T hen he was gone and Jeter 
and Eyer were dropping swiftly 
down in the elevator to the street 
— to find that the streets of Man- 
hattan had gone mad. The ban on 
electric lights had been lifted, and 
the faces of fear-ridden men *and 
women were ghastly in the bril- 
liance of thousands of lights. Traf- 
fic accidents were happening on 
every corner, at every intersection, 
and there were all too few police 
to manage traffic. 

However, a motorcycle squad was 
ready to lead the way through the 
press for Eyer and Jeter — two 
grim-faced men now, who dared 
not look at each other, because each 
feared to show his abysmal fear to 
the other. 

Automobiles raced past on either 
side of them driven by cra2y men 
and hysterical women. 

“Queensboro Bridge will be 
packed tight as a drum,” said Eyer 
quietly. 

Jeter didn’t seem to hear. Eyer 
talked on softly, unbothered by 
Jeter’s silence, knowing that Jeter 
wouldn’t hear a word, that his part- 
ner had drawn into himself and 



was even now, perhaps, visualizing 
what they might encounter in the 
stratosphere. Eyer talked to give 
shape to his own thoughts. 

A world gone mad, a world that 
fled from the menace which hung 
over Manhattan. . . . Jeter hoped 
that the calm brains of men like 
Hadley would at least be able to 
quiet the populace somewhat, else 
many of them would be self- 
destroyed, as men and women de- 
stroy one another in rushes for the 
exits during great theater fire 
alarms. 

Fast as they traveled, some of 
the foremost airmen of the adjoin- 
ing country had reached Mineola 
ahead of them. They understood 
that many of them had arrived by 
plane in obedience to word broad- 
cast by Hadley. Hadley was doing 
his bit with a vengeance. 

The partners reached their lab- 
oratory. 

Their head servant met them at 
the door. 

“A Mr. Hadley frantically tele- 
phoning, sir,” he said to Jeter. 

Jeter listened to Hadley’s words 
— which were not so frantic now, 
as though Hadley had been numbed 
by the av,?ful happenings. 

“The new bridge between Man- 
hattan and Jersey,” said Hadley, 
“has just been lifted by whatever 
the unearthly force is. It was pulled 
up from its very foundations. It 
was crowded with cars as people 
fled from New York — and cars and 
people were lifted with the bridge. 
Awful irony was in the rest of the 
event. The great bridge was simply 
turned, along its entire length — 
which remained intact during the 
miracle — until it was parallel with 
the river and directly above mid- 
stream. Then it was dropped into 
the water.” 

“No telling how many lives were 
lost?” asked Jeter. 

“No, and hundreds and thousands 
of lives are being lost every mo- 



37 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



ment now. Frantic thousands are 
swamping boats of all sizes in their 
craze to get away. Dozens of over- 
loaded vessels have capsized and 
the surface of the river is alive 
with doomed people, fighting the 
water and one another. . . .” 

J ETER clicked up the receiver 
on the horror, knowing there 
was nothing he could do. There 
would be no end to the loss of life 
until some measure of sanity had 
been argued into crazed humanity. 
All the time he kept wondering. 
What v/as doing all this av/ful 
business? He surmised that some 
anti-gravitational agency was re- 
sponsible for the levitation of the 
Vandercook building, but what sort 
of intelligence was directing it? 
Was the intelligence human? Bes- 
tial? Maniacal? Or was it some- 
thing from Outside? Jeter did not 
think the latter could be consid- 
ered. He didn’t believe that any 
planet, possibly inhabited, was 
close enough to make a visit pos- 
sible. At any rate, he felt that 
there should be some sort of warn- 
ing. He held to the belief that the 
whole thing was caused by human, 
and earthly, intelligence. 

But why? The world was at 
peace. And yet. . . . 

Thousands of lives had been 
snuffed out, a twelve-story build- 
ing had leaped five thousand feet 
into the air, and the world’s big- 
gest bridge had turned upstream as 
though turning its back against the 
mad traffic it had, at the last, been 
called upon to bear. 

Eyer was going over their plane 
with the visitors, men of intellect 
who were taking notes at top 
speed, men who knew planes and 
were quick to grasp new appli- 
ances. 

“Have any of you got the whole 
story now?” Eyer asked. 

A half dozen men nodded. 

“Then pass your knowledge on 



to the others. Jeter and I must get 
ready to be off. Every minute we 
delay costs untold numbers of 
lives.” 

Willing hands rolled their ship 
out to their own private runway, 
while Jeter and Eyer made last 
minute preparations. There was the 
matter of food, of oxygen necessary 
so far above the Earth, of cloth- 
ing. All had been provided for and 
their last duties were largely those 
of checking and rechecking, to 
make sure no fatal errors in judg- 
ment had been made. 

Eyer was to fly the ship in the 
beginning. 

A small crowd watched as the 
partners, white of face now in the 
last minutes of their stay on Earth 
— which they might never touch 
again in life — climbed into their 
cabin, which was capable of being 
sealed against the cold of the 
heights and the lack of breathable 
oxygen. 

Nobody smiled at them, for the 
world had stopped smiling. 

Nobody waved at them, for a 
wave would have been frivolous. 

Nobody cheered or even shouted 
— but the two knew that the best 
wishes, the very hopes for life, of 
all the land, went with them into 
the ghastly unknown. 

CHAPTER V 
Into the Void 

T heir watches and the clock in 
the plane were synchronized 
with Hadley’s time, which was 
Eastern Standard, and as soon as 
the plane had reached eight thou- 
sand feet altitude, Jeter spoke into 
the radiophone and arranged for a 
connection with the office of Had- 
ley. 

Hadley himself soon spoke into 
Jeter’s ear. 

“Yes, Jeter?” 

“See that someone is always at 
your radiophone to listen to us. I’ll 



38 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



keep you informed of developments 
as long as possible. Everything is 
running like clockwork so far. 
How is it with you?” 

“Two additional buildings, older 
buildings of the city, have been 
lifted some hundreds of feet above 
ground level, then dropped back 
upon their own foundations, to be 
broken apart. Many lives lost de- 
spite the fact that the city will be 
deserted within a matter of hours. 
It seems that the — shall we say 
enemy? — is concentrating only on 
old buildings.” 

“Perhaps they wish to preserve 
the new ones,” said Jeter quietly. 

“What? Why?” 

“For their own use, perhaps; who 
knows? Keep me informed of every 
eventuality. If the center of force 
which seems to be causing all this 
havoc shifts in any direction, ad- 
vise us at once.” 

“All right, Jeter.” 

Jeter broke the connection tem- 
porarily. Hadley could get him at 
any moment. A buzzer would sound 
inside the almost noiseless cabin 
when anyone wished to contact 
him over the radiophone. 

Eyer was concentrating on the 
controls. The plane was climbing in 
great sweeping spirals. Its speed 
was a hundred and fifty miles an 
hour. Their air speed indicator 
was capable of registering eight 
hundred miles an hour. They hoped 
to attain that speed and more, fly- 
ing on an even keel above ninety 
thousand feet. 

Both Eyer and Jeter were perfect 
navigators. If, as they hoped, they 
could reach ninety thousand or 
more, they could cross the whole 
United States in four hours or less. 
They could quarter the country, 
winged bloodhounds of space, seek- 
ing their quarry. 

Jeter studied the sky above them 
through their special telescopes, 
seeking some hint of the location 
of the point of departure of that 



devastating column of light. He 
could think of no ray that would 
nullify gravitation — yet that col- 
umn of light had been the visual 
manifestation that the thing had 
somehow been brought about. 

If this were true, was the enemy 
vulnerable? Was his base of attack 
capable of being destroyed or crip- 
pled if anything happened to the 
column of light? There was no way 
of knowing — yet. A search of the 
sky above Manhattan failed to dis- 
close any visible substance from 
which the light beam might ema- 
nate. That seemed to indicate some 
unbelievable height. Yet, Kress 
must have reached that base. Else 
why had he been destroyed and 
sent back to Jeter and Eyer as a 
challenge? 

J ETER’S mind went back to 
Kress. Frozen solid . . . but 
that could have been caused by his 
downward plunge through space. 
And what had happened to Kress’ 
plane? No word had been received 
concerning it up to the time of the 
jeter-Eyer departure. Had the “en- 
emy” taken possession of it? 

The whole thing seemed absurd. 
Nobody knew better than Jeter 
that he was working literally and 
figuratively in the dark. He was 
doing little better than guessing. 
He felt sure of but one thing, that 
the agency which was wreaking 
the havoc was a human one, and he 
was perfectly willing to match his 
wits and Eyer’s against any human 
intelligence. 

Jeter slipped into the cushioned 
seat beside Eyer. 

The altimeter registered fifteen 
thousand feet. New York was just 
a blur against the abysmal darkness 
under their careening wings. 

“You’ve never ventured an opin- 
ion, Tema,” said Jeter softly, “even 
to me.” 

Eyer grinned. 

“Who knows?” he said. “It may 



39 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



all be just the very latest thing in 
aerial attack. If so, what country or 
coalition of countries harbor de- 
signs against our good Uncle Sam? 
Japan? China?” 

“How do you explain the Vander- 
cook incident? The bridge thing? 
The rise and fall of the other sky- 
scrapers?” 

“Some substance or ray capable 
of being controlled and directed. It 
creates a field, of any size desired, 
in which gravitation is — well, shall 
we say erased? Then any solid 
which is thus made weightless 
could be lifted by the two good 
hands of a strong man, or even of- a 
weak one. How does that check 
with your guessing?” 

Jeter shook his head ruefully. 

“I’ve arrived at the same conclu- 
sions as yourself, Tema,” he said. 
“I know we’re all guessing. I know 
we’re probably climbing off the 
Earth on a wild-goose chase from 
which we haven’t a chance of re- 
turning alive. I know we’re a pair 
of fools to think of matching a 
few drums of gas and a bunch of 
popguns against the equipment of 
an enemy capable of moving moun- 
tains — but what else is there to 
do?” 

“Nothing,” said Eyer cheerfully, 
“and I’ve got a feeling that you 
and I will manage to acquit our- 
selves with credit.” 

The radiophone buzzer sounded. 

Hadley was speaking. 

“One of the very latest types of 
battle-wagons,” he said, “was steam- 
ing this way from the open sea out- 
side the Narrows, ordered here to 
stand by, in case of need, by the 
Navy Department. She was armed 
to the minute with the very latest 
ordnance. She carried a full 
crew. . . .” 

H adley paused. Jeter could 
hear him take a deep breath, 
like a diver preparing to plunge 
into icy water. Jeter’s spine tin- 



gled. He felt he guessed in advance 
what was to come. 

Hadley went on. 

The world seemed to spin diz- 
zily as Jeter listened. Out of all 
the madness only one thing loomed 
which served for the moment to 
keep Jeter sane. That was the alti- 
meter, which registered twenty-five 
thousand feet. 

“The battle-wagon — the U.S.S. 
Hueber — was yanked bodily out of 
the water. It was taken aloft so 
quickly that it was just a blur. At 
least this was the way the skipper 
of a Norwegian steamer, a mile 
away from the Hueber, described 
it. The warship simply vanished 
into the night sky. The exact time 
was given by the Norwegian. Five 
minutes before midnight. At that 
moment nothing was happening in 
New York City^ — nothing new, that 
is.” 

Hadley paused again. 

“Go on, man!” said Jeter 
hoarsely. 

“Twenty minutes later the 
Hueber was lowered back into the 
water, practically unharmed. It had 
all happened so swiftly that the 
sailors aboard scarcely realized 
anything had happened. The skip- 
per of the warship radios that the 
sensation was like a sudden attack 
of dizziness. One man died of heart 
failure. He was the only casualty.” 

Jeter’s eyes began to blaze with 
excitement, as he spoke. 

“Now you can tell the world that 
the thing which causes the havoc 
Manhattan is experiencing is not 
supernatural. It is human — and our 
people have no fear of human 
enemies.” 

“But why was not the warship 
dropped somewhere, as the build- 
ings have been?” asked Hadley. 

“Did you ever,” replied Jeter, 
“hear what is described in the best 
fiction as a burst of ironic laughter? 
Well, that what the Hueber, as it 
now stands, or floats, is! But the 



40 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



enemy made a foolish move and will 
live to regret it bitterly. 

“I wish I could share your sud- 
den confidence,” said Hadley. “Con- 
ditions here, where public morale 
is concerned, have become more 
frightful minute by minute since 
you left.” 

Jeter severed the connection. 

T he altimeter said thirty-five 
thousand feet. They were still 
spiraling upward. Again Jeter sur- 
veyed the sky aloft. 

The earth below was a blur, save 
through the telescopes. The two 
had reached a height less than a 
third of what they hoped to attain. 

Still they could see nothing up 
above them. They were almost over 
the “shaft” of atmosphere through 
which the Hueber must have been 
lifted and lowered. Suppose, Jeter 
thought, they had accidentally 
flown into that shaft at exactly the 
wrong moment? It brought a shud- 
der. Still, Jeter’s mind went on, if 
that had happened they would now, 
in all likelihood, have been right 
among the enemy — for gravity in 
that shaft would not have existed 
for them, either. 

But would they have been low- 
ered back to safety as the Hueber 
and her crew had been? 

Believing as he did that the 
enemy knew everything that tran- 
spired within its sphere of in- 
fluence, Jeter doubted that Eyer 
and himself would have been so 
humanely treated. 

He had but to remember Kress to 
feel sure of this. 

The altimeter said fifty thousand 
feet. 

CHAPTER VI 

Stratosphere Currents 

N OW the partner-scientists con- 
centrated on the tremendous 
task of climbing higher than man 
had ever flown before. Nobody 



knew how high Kress had gone, for 
the only information which had 
come back had been the corpse of 
the sky pioneer. Jeter and Eyer 
hoped to land, too, but to be able 
to tell others, when they did, what 
had happened to them. 

Somehow, away up here, the af- 
fairs of the Earth seemed trivial, 
unreal. What was the raising of an 
entire skyscraper — in reality so 
small that from this height it was 
difficult to pick out . the biggest 
one through the telescope? What 
mattered a bridge across the Hud- 
son that was really less than the 
footprint of an ant at this height? 

Still, looking at each other, they 
were able to attain the old per- 
spectives. Down there people like 
Jeter and Eyer were dying because 
of something that struck at them 
from somewhere up here in the 
blue darkness. 

Their faces set grimly. The plane 
kept up its constant spiraling. Jeter 
and Eyer flew the ship in relays. 
Occasionally they secured the con- 
trols and allowed the plane to fly 
on, untended. 

“But maybe we’d better not do 
too much of that,” said Jeter du- 
biously. “I’m sure we are being 
observed, every foot of altitude we 
make. I don’t care to run into 
something up here that will wreck 
us. Right now, Eyer, if we hap- 
pened to be outside this sealed 
cabin instead of inside it, we’d die 
in less time than it takes to tell 
about it.” 

All known records for altitude — 
the only unknown one being Kress’ 
— had now been broken by Jeter 
and Eyer. They informed Hadley 
of this fact. 

“A week ago you’d have had 
headlines,” came back Hadley. “To- 
day nobody cares, except that the 
world looks to you for information 
about this horror. The enemy is 
systematically destroying every 
building in Manhattan which dates 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



41 



back over eight years. Fortunately, 
save for the occasional die-hard 
who never believes anything, there 
are few deaths at the moment. But 
we’re all waiting, holding our 
breaths, wondering what the next 
five minutes will bring forth. Is 
there any news there?” 

How strange it seemed — as the 
altimeter said sixty-one thousand 
feet — ^to hear that voice out of the 
void. For under the plane there 
was no world at all, save through 
the telescope. Perhaps when morn- 
ing came they would be able to 
see a little. Picard had reported 
the world to look flat from a little 
over fifty thousand feet. 

“No news, Hadley,” said Jeter. 
“Except that our plane behaves 
perfectly and we are at sixty-one 
thousand feet. Were it not for our 
turn and bank indicators, our alti- 
meter and air speed instruments, 
and our navigational instruments, 
it would be impossible to tell — by 
looking at least, though we could 
tell by our shifting weight — 
whether we were upside down or 
right side up, on one wing or on 
an even keel. It’s eery. We wouldn’t 
be able to tell whether we were 
moving were it not for our air 
speed indicator. There are no 
clouds. The motor hum seems to 
be the only thing here — except 
ourselves of course — ^to remind us 
that we really belong down there 
with you.” 

T he connection was broken 
again as Jeter ceased speaking. 
Things seemed to be marking time 
on the ground, save for the strange 
demolitions of the unseen and ap- 
parently unknowable enemy. Would 
they ever really encounter him, or 
it? 

When the sun came out of the 
east they leveled off at ninety 
thousand feet. By their reckoning 
they had scarcely moved in any 
direction from the spot where they 



had taken off. Jeter was satisfied 
that they were almost directly 
above Mineola. But the world had 
vanished. The plane rode easily on. 
Now and again it dipped one wing 
or the other — and even the veteran 
aviators felt a thrill of uneasiness. 
From somewhere up here in this 
immensity, Franz Kress had dropped 
to his death. Of course, if it had 
happened at this height he hadn’t 
lived to suffer. 

Or had he? What had been done 
to him by the — the denizens of the 
stratosphere? 

Jeter sat down beside Eyer. It 
seemed strange to eat breakfast 
here, but the sandwiches and hot 
coffee in a thermos bottle were ex- 
tremely welcome. They ate in si- 
lence, their thoughts busy. When 
they had made an end, Jeter 
squared his shoulders. Eyer grinned. 

“W€I1, Lucian,” he said, “are we 
in enemy territory by your calcu- 
lations? And if so how do you 
arrive at your conclusions?” 

“I’m still guessing, Tema,” said 
Jeter, “but I’ve a feeling I’m not 
guessing badly, and. ... Yes, we’re 
somewhere within striking distance 
of the enemy, whatever the enemy 
is.” 

“What’s the next move?” 

“We’ll systematically cover the 
sky over an area which blankets 
New York, Long Island, Jersey 
City and surrounding territory for 
a distance of twenty miles. If we’re 
above the enemy, perhaps v/e can 
look down upon him. We know he 
can’t be seen from below, perhaps 
not even from above. If we are 
below him we’ll try to fly into that 
column of his. What they’ll do to 
us I. . . . You’re not afraid to find 
out, are you?” 

Eyer grinned. Jeter grinned back 
at him. 

“What they’ll do to us if we fly 
into them I’m sure I don’t know. 
I don’t think they’ll kill our motor. 
If whoever or whatever controls 



42 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



the light column decides to make 
us prisoners. . . . Well, we’ll hope 
to have better luck combating 
them than Kress had.” 

A nd so began that hours-long 
vigil of quartering the strat- 
osphere over the unmarked area 
-which Jeter had set as a limit. Now 
and again Hadley spoke to Jeter. 
Yes, the demolitions were still con- 
tinuing in Manhattan. Could all 
telescopes on the ground pick out 
their space ship? Yes, said Hadley, 
and a young scientist in New Jer- 
sey was constantly watching them. 
Were they, since sunrise, ever out 
of his sight? Only when clouds at 
comparatively low altitudes inter- 
vened. However, the sky was un- 
usually clear and it was hoped to 
keep their plane in sight during 
the entire day. 

“Hadley,” Jeter almost whispered, 
“I’m satisfied we’re above the area 
of force, else we’d have flown into 
the anti-gravitation field. Get in 
touch with that Jersey chap by 
direct personal wire or radiophone 
if he is equipped with it. See that 
his watch is set with yours, which 
is synchronized with ours. Got 
• that?” 

“Yes.” 

“When you’ve done that give him 
these instructions: He is never to 
take his eyes off us for more than 
a split second at a time — unless 
someone else takes his place. I 
doubt if, at this distance, this will 
work, but it may help us a little. 
If we become invisible for even the 
briefest of moments, he is to look 
at his watch and observe the ex- 
act time, even to split seconds. We 
shall try to follow a certain plan 
hereafter in quartering the strato- 
sphere, and I shall mark our lo- 
cation on the navigational charts 
every minute until we hear from 
this chap, or until we decide noth- 
ing is to be accomplished by this 
Jrick. Understand?” 



“You’re hoping that the enemy, 
while invisible to all eyes, yet has 
substance. . . .” 

“Shut up!” snapped Jeter, but he 
was glad that Hadley had grasped 
the idea. It was a slim chance, but 
such as it was it was worth trying. 
If the plane were invisible for a 
time, then it would be proof of 
some opaque obstruction between 
the plane and the eye of the be- 
holder on the surface of the Earth. 
Refraction had to be figured, per- 
haps. Oh, there were many argu- 
ments against it. 

The fliers followed the very outer 
edge of the area above the world 
they had mapped out as their limit 
of exploration. This circuit com- 
pleted, they banked inward, short- 
ening their circuit by about a mile 
of space. A mile, seen at a distance 
of ninety thousand feet, v/ould be 
little indeed. 

It was almost midday when they 
had their first stroke of luck. 

The buzzer sounded at the very 
moment Eyer uttered an ejacula- 
tion. 

“The Jersey fellow says there is 
nothing between his lens and your 
plane to obstruct the view.” 

“O.K.,” retorted Jeter. “At the 
moment your buzzer sounded our 
plane suddenly jumped upward. 
That means an upcurrent of air 
indicating an obstruction under us. 
It must however, be invisible.” 

He severed the connection. His 
brow was furrowed thoughtfully. 
He was remembering Sitsumi and 
his rumored discovery. 

They circled back warily. The 
eyes of both were fixed downward, 
staring into space. Their jaws were 
firmly set. Their eyes were nar- 
rowed. 

And then. . . . 

There was that uprush of air 
again! It appeared to rise from an 
angle of about sixty degrees. They 
got the wind against their nose and 
Started a humming dive, feeling in 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



43 



the alien updraft for the obstruc- 
tion which caused it. 

CHAPTER VII 
Invisible Globe 

T he buzzer of their radiophone 
was sounding, but so intent 
were they on this phenomenon they 
were facing, they paid it no heed. 
Their eyes were alight, their lips 
in firm straight lines of resolve, as 
they dived down upon the invisible 
obstruction — ^whatever it was — from 
whose surface the telltale updraft 
came. 

It was Eyer who made the sug- 
gestion; 

“Let’s measure it to see what its 
plane extent is.” 

“How?” asked Jeter. 

“Measure it by following the 
wind disturbance. We travel in one 
direction until we lose it. There is 
one extremity. In a few minutes 
we can discover exactly how big 
the thing is. What do you think it 
is?” 

Jeter shook his head. There was 
no way of telling. 

Jeter nodded agreement to Eyer. 
Then he spoke into the radiophone, 
telling Hadley what they had 
found, to which he could give no 
name. 

“The world awaits in fear and 
trembling what you will have to 
report, Jeter,” said Hadley. “What 
if you become unable to report, as 
Kress did?” 

“Don’t worry. We will or we 
won’t. If we succeed we’ll be back. 
If we fail, send up the other. . . . 
No, perhaps you hadn’t better send 
up the new planes. But I think 
Eyer and I have a chance to dis- 
cover the nature of this strange — 
whatever-it-is. If you can’t contact 
us, delay twenty-four hours before 
doing anything. I — well, I scarcely 
know what to tell you to do. We’ll 
just be shooting in the dark until 
we know what we’re in for. You’ll 



have to contain yourself in pa- 
tience. What did you want with 
me?” 

“Only to tell you of another 
strange news dispatch. It gives no 
details. It merely tells of strange 
activity around Lake Baikal, be- 
yond the Gobi Desert. Queer noises 
at night, mysterious cordons of 
Eurasians to keep all investigators 
back, strange losses of livestock, 
foodstuffs. . . .” 

Jeter severed connection. There 
was little need to listen further to 
something which he couldn’t ex- 
plain yet, in any case. 

Eyer, at the controls, banked the 
plane at right angles and flew on. 
In shortly less than a minute he 
banked again. 

I N five minutes he turned to Jeter 
with a queer expression on his 
face. 

“Well,” he said, “what’s to do 
about it? What is it? It seems to 
be some solid substance approxi- 
mately a quarter mile square. But it 
can’t be true! A solid substance 
just hanging in the air at ninety 
thousand feet! It’s beyond all 
imagining!” 

“What man can imagine, man 
can do,” replied Jeter. “A great 
newspaper editor said that, and 
we’re going to discover now just 
how true it is.” 

“V/hat’s our next move?” 

For a long time the partners 
stared into each other’s eyes. Each 
knew exactly what the other 
thought, exactly what he would 
propose as a course of action. Jeter 
heaved a sigh and nodded his head. 

“We’re as m.uch in the power of 
the enemy here as we would be 
there, or anywhere else. We can’t 
discover anything from here. Set 
the wheels down!” 

“We can’t tell anything about 
the condition of the surface of that 
stuff. We may crack up.” 

Jeter had to grin. 



44 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



“Sounds strange, cracking up at 
ninety thousand feet, doesn’t it? 
Well, hoist your helicopter vanes 
and drift down as straight as you 
can — but be sure and keep your 
motor idling.” 

Again they exchanged long looks. 

“O.K.,” said Eyer, as quietly as 
he would have answered the same 
order at Roosevelt Field. “Here we 
go!” 

He pressed a button and the 
helicopters, set into the surface of 
the single sturdy wing, snapped 
up their shafts and began to spin, 
effectually slowing the forward mo- 
tion of the plane. Eyer fish-tailed 
her with his rudder to help cut 
down speed. 

“We can’t see the surface of the 
thing at all, Lucian,” said Eyer. 
“I’ll simply have to feel for it.” 

“Well, you’ve done that before, 
too. We can manage all right.” 

Down they dropped. The updraft 
was now a cushion directly under 
them. And then their wheels struck 
something solid. The plane moved 
forward a few feet — ^with a strange 
sickening motion. It was as though 
the surface of this substance were 
globular. First one wheel rose, then 
dipped as the other rose. The plane 
came to rest on fairly even keel, 
and the partners, while the motor 
idled, stared at each other. 

“Well?” said Eyer, a trace of a 
grin on his face. 

“If it’ll hold the plane it will 
hold us. Let’s slide into our strato- 
sphere suits and climb out. We 
have to get close to this thing to 
see what it is.” 

“Parachutes?” said Eyer. 

Jeter nodded. 

“It would simplify matters if the 
thing happened to tilt over and 
spill us off, I think,” said Jeter, 
matching Eyer’s grin with one of 
his own. “I can’t think with any 
degree of equanimity of plunging 
ninety thousand feet without a 
parachute.” 



“I’m not sure I’d care for it with 
one,” said Eyer. 

T hey were soon in the tight- 
fitting suits which were cus- 
tomarily used by fliers who climbed 
above the air levels at which it was 
impossible for a human being to 
breathe without a supply of oxygen 
in a container. Their suits were 
sealed against cold. Set in their 
backs were oxygen tanks capable 
of holding enough oxygen for sev- 
eral hours. Over all this they fas- 
tened their parachutes. 

Then, using a series of doors in 
order to conserve the warmth and 
oxygen inside their cabin, they let 
themselves out, closing each suc- 
cessive door behind them, until at 
last they faced the last door — and 
the grim unknown. They glanced 
at each other briefly, and Jeter’s 
hand went forth to grasp the 
mechanism of the last door. Eyer 
stood at his side. Their eyes met. 
The door swung open. 

They stepped down. The surface 
of this stratosphere substance was 
slippery smooth. Now that they 
stood on its surface they could 
sense something of its profile. 
Movement in any direction sug- 
gested walking on a huge ball. The 
queer thing was that they could 
feel but could not see. It was like 
walking on air. Their plane ap- 
peared to be suspended in midair. 

For a moment Jeter had an over- 
powering desire to grab Eyer, jerk 
him back to the plane, and take off 
at top speed. But ?hey couldn’t do 
that, not when the world depended 
upon them. Had Kress encountered 
this thing? Perhaps. How must he 
have felt? He had been alone. 
These two were moral support for 
each other. But both were acutely 
remembering how Kress had come 
back. 

And his plane? They’d perhaps 
discover what had happened to that, 
too. 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



45 



Eyer suddenly slipped and fell, 
as though he had been walking on 
a carpet which had been jerked 
from under his feet. From his al- 
most prone position he looked up 
at Jeter. Jeter dropped to his 
knees beside him. Their covered 
hands played over the surface of 
their discovery, to find it smooth 
as glass. As though with one 
thought they placed their heads 
against it, right ears down, to 
listen. But the whole vast field 
seemed to be dead, lifeless. And 
yet — a solid it was, floating here 
in space — or just hanging. It seemed 
to be utterly motionless. 

“There should be a way of dis- 
covering what this is, and why, and 
how it is controlled if an intelli- 
gence is behind it.” Jeter spelled 
out the words in the sign language 
they had both learned as boys. 

Eyer nodded. 

T hey walked more warily 
when they had, traveling slow- 
ly and hesitantly, gone more than a 
hundred feet from their plane. 
They kept it in sight by constantly 
turning to look back. It was now 
several feet above them. No telling 
what might happen to them at any 
moment, and the plane was an 
avenue of escape. 

They didn’t wish to take a chance 
on stepping off into the strato- 
sphere — and eternity. 

“It’s like an iceberg of space,” 
said the fingers of Jeter. “But let’s 
go back and look it over to the 
other side of the plane. We have 
to keep the plane in sight and work 
from it as a base. And say, what 
sort of sensations have you had 
about this surface we’re standing 
on?” 

Jeter could see Eyer’s shudder 
as he asked the question. Slowly 
the fingers of his partner spelled 
out the answer. 

“I’ve a feeling of eyes boring 
into my back. I sense that the 



substance under us is malignant, 
inimical. I have the same feeling 
with every step I take, as though 
the unseen surface were endowed 
with arms capable of reaching out 
and grabbing me.” 

“I feel it, too,” said Jeter’s fin- 
gers. “But I’m not afraid of fin- 
gers in the usual sense. I don’t 
think of hands strangling us, or 
ripping us to shreds, but of ques- 
ting — well, call them tentacles, 
which may clasp us with gentle- 
ness even, and absorb us, and an- 
nihilate us!” 

Now the two faced each other 
squarely. Now they did not try to 
hide that their fear was an abysmal 
feeling, horrible and devastating. 

“Let’s get back to the plane and 
take off. We haven’t a chance.” 

They clasped hands again and 
started running back, their plane 
their goal. Before they reached it 
they would change their minds, for 
they were not ordinarily lacking in 
courage — but so long as they ran 
both had the feeling of being pur- 
sued by malignant entities which 
were always just a step behind, but 
gaining. 

They slipped on the smooth sur- 
face and fell sprawling. Each felt, 
when he fell, that he must rise at 
once, with all his speed, lest some- 
thing grasp him and hold him down 
forever. It was a horrible trapped 
feeling, and yet. . . . 

They had but to look at each 
other to see that they were free. 
Nothing gripped their feet to hold 
them back. Of course the way was 
slippery, but no more so than an 
icy surface which one essays in 
ordinary shoes. What then caused 
their fear? 

T he plane, so plainly visible 
there ahead and above, was like 
a haven of refuge to them. They 
panted inside their helmets and 
their breath misted the glass of 
their masks. But they stumbled on. 



46 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



making the best speed they could 
under the circumstances. 

Perhaps if they took off, and re- 
gained their courage, returned to 
normal in surroundings they knew 
and understood, they could come 
back and try again, after having 
heard each other’s voices. The si- 
lence, the sign manual, the odd, 
awesome sensations, all combined 
to rob them of courage. They must 
get it back if they were to suc- 
ceed. And they had been away 
from the plane for almost an hour. 
Hadley would be waiting for some 
news. 

The plane was twenty yards away 
— and almost at the same time Eyer 
and Jeter saw something queer 
about it. At first it was hard to say 
just what it was. 

They rushed on. They were with- 
in ten yards of the plane Vv^hen a 
wail of anguish was born — and died 
— in two soundproof helmets. There 
was no questioning the fact that 
the plane had settled into the sur- 
face of the field. 

The plane was invisible below 
the tops of the landing wheels, as 
though the plane were sinking into 
invisibility, slowly dissolving from 
the bottom. 

“Understand?” Jeter’s fingers al- 
most shouted. “Understand why we 
felt the desire to keep moving? 
This field is alive, Eyer, and if we 
stand still it will swallow us just 
as it is swallowing our plane ! 
Let’s get in fast; maybe we can 
still pull free from the stuff and 
take off.” 

They were racing against time 
and in the heart of each was the 
feeling that whatever they did, 
their efforts would be hopeless. 
Still, the spinning propeller of 
their plane gave them strength to 
hope. 

They went through the succes- 
sion of doors as rapidly as they 
dared. Once in the comfort of 
their cabin they doffed their strata- 



sphere suits with all possible speed. 
Jeter was the first free. He jumped 
to the controls and speeded up the 
motor. In a matter of seconds it 
was revving up to a speed which, 
had it been free, would have pulled 
the plane along at seven hundred 
miles an hour at the height at 
which they were. 

But the plane did not move! 

J ETER slowed the motor, then 
started racing it fast, trying to 
jerk the fuselage free of the im- 
bedded wheels, but they would not 
be released. Both men realized that 
the wheels had sunk from sig’nt 
while they had been delayed com- 
ing through the succession of 
doors — ^that the plane had sunk 
until the invisible surface gripped 
the floor of the fuselage. 

Perspiration beaded the faces of 
both men. Eyer managed a ghastly 
grin. Jeter’s brov/ v,?as furrovy^ed 
with frantic thought as he tried to 
imagine a way out. 

“If we could somehow cut our 
landing gear free,” began Jeter, 
“but—” 

“But it’s too late, Lucian,” said 
Eyer quietly, “Look at the win- 
dow.” 

They both looked. 

Countless fingers of shadowy 
gray substance were undulating up 
the surface of the window, like pale 
angleworms or white serpents of 
many sizes, trying to climb up a 
pane of glass. 

“Well,” said Jeter, “here we are! 
You see? Outside we can see noth- 
ing. Inside we begin to see a little, 
and what good will it do us?” 

Eyer grinned. It was as though 
he lighted a cigarette and non- 
chalantly blew smoke rings at the 
ceiling, save that they dared not 
use up any of their precious oxygen 
by smoking. 

Their fear had left them utterly 
when it would have been natural 
for them to be stunned by it. 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



47 



CHAPTER VIII 

Cataclysmic Hunger 

E YER thrust out his hand to 
cut the motor. Jeter stayed 
it, 

“I’ve an idea,” he said softly; 
“let it run. We’ll learn something 
more about the sensitiveness of 
this material.” 

The motor was cut to idling. 
The plane scarcely trembled now 
in the pull of the motor, so firmly 
was she held in the grip of the 
shadowy, vague tentacles. A grim 
sort of silence had settled in the 
cabin. The faces of the two part- 
ners were dead white, but their 
eyes were fearless. They had come 
aloft to give their lives if need be. 
They wouldn’t try to get them 
back now. Besides, what use was 
there? 

Jeter paused for a moment in 
thought. 

Then he began to examine some 
of their weapons. The only one by 
which they could fire outside the 
plane — due to the necessity of 
keeping the cabin closed to retain 
oxygen — was the rapid firer on the 
wing. This could be depressed 
enough to fire downward at an 
angle of forty- five degrees. Jeter 
hesitated for a moment. 

He looked at Eyer. Eyer grinned. 
“It can’t bring death to us any 
sooner,” he said. “Let her go!” 
Jeter tripped the rapid firer and 
held it for half a minute, during 
which time three hundred projec- 
tiles, eight inches long by two 
inches in diameter, were poured 
into the invisible surface. The bul- 
lets simply accomplished nothing. 
It was almost as though the field 
had simply opened its mouth to 
catch thrown food. There was no 
movement of the field, no jarring, 
no vibration. Nor did the plane it- 
self tremble or shake. Jeter had to 
stop the rapid firer because its 
base, the plane, was now so firmly 



fixed that the recoil might kick the 
gun out of its mount. 

Now the partners sat and looked 
out through the windows of un- 
breakable glass, watching the work 
of those tentacular fingers. 

“How does it feel, Tema, to be 
eaten alive?” asked Jeter. 

“Have you radiophoned Hadley 
about what’s happening to us?” 
“No,” replied Jeter. “It would 
frighten the world half out of its 
wits. Besides, what can we say has 
caught us? We don’t know.” 

“And what are we going to do 
about it?” 

“T X TE’RE going to wait. I’ve a 
VV theory about some of this. 
We know blamed well that, except 
for the most miraculous luck, you 
couldn’t have set the plane down 
on this field without it slipping 
off again. Well, there’s only one 
answer to that: the rubbery resil- 
ience of the surface. It must have 
given a little to hold the plane — 
and us when we walked on it. 
What does that mean? Simply that 
we were seen and the field made 
usable for us by some intelligence. 
That intelligence watches us now. 
It saved our lives for some reason 
or other. It didn’t destroy us when 
were were afoot out there. It isn’t 
destroying us now. It’s swallowing 
us whole — and for some reason. 
Why? That we’ll have to dis- 
cover. But I think we can rest 
easy on one thing. We’re not to be 
killed by this swallowing act, else 
we’d have been dead before now.” 
“Have you any idea what this 
stuff is?” 

“Yes, but the idea is so wild and 
improbable that I’m reluctant to 
tell you what I guess until I know 
more. However, if it develops that 
we are to die in this swallowing 
act, then I’ll give you a tip — and it 
will probably knock you off your 
pedestal. But the more I think of 
it the more certain I am that the 



48 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



whole thing is at least a variation 
of my idea. And the brains behind 
it, if my guess proves even approx- 
imately correct, will be too great 
for us to win mastery except by 
some miraculous accident favoring 
us — and true miracles come but 
seldom in these days.” 

“No? What do you call this?” 

Jeter shrugged. 

With many ports all around the 
cabin, all fitted with unbreakable 
glass, it was possible for the part- 
ners to see out in all directions. 
The tentacle fingers had now 
climbed up to a height sufficient 
to smother both windows. The 
fuselage was about half swallowed. 

“I can almost hear the stuff sigh 
inwardly with satisfaction as it 
takes us in,” said Eyer. 

“I have the same feeling. There’s 
a peculiar sound about it, too; do 
you hear it?” 

They listened. The sound which 
came into the cabin was such a 
sound as might have been heard by 
a man inside a cylinder lying on 
the bottom of a still pond. A whis- 
per that was less than a whisper — 
a moving whisper. In it were life 
and death, and grim terror. 

A nd then — remembering that 
contact with the propeller 
would shatter it, Tema cut the 
switch — the propeller stopped, the 
motor died, and utter silence, in 
the midst of an utter absence of 
vibration, possessed the comfort- 
able little cabin. It was hard to be- 
lieve. The cabin was a breath of 
home. It was a home. And it was 
being swallowed by some sub- 
stance concerning which Eyer had 
no ideas at all and Jeter but a 
growing suspicion. 

The plane sank lower and lov/er. 
The surface of the field v/as now 
almost to the top of the cabin 
doors. Most of the windows had 
been erased, but it made no par- 
ticular difference in the matter of 



light. Jeter had put out his hand 
to snap on the lights, but stayed 
it when he saw that light came 
through to them. 

Moment by moment the mystery 
of the swallowing deepened. It 
was like sinking into a snow bank. 
There was a sensation of smother- 
ing, though it was not uncomfort- 
able because the cabin itself was 
self-sufficient in all respects to 
maintain life for a long period of 
time. 

It was like sinking slowly into 
the depths of the sea. 

The last port on the sides of the 
plane was erased. Now the two sat 
in their chairs and stared up at the 
ceiling, and at the glass-protected 
ports there. It was grim business. 
They almost held their breath as 
they waited. 

At last those blurred tentacles 
began to creep across the lowest of 
the ceiling ports. Faster they came, 
and faster. In a few minutes every 
port was covered with a film of the 
weird stuff. 

“It may be a foot deep above us,” 
said Jeter. “I don’t think we’ll be 
able to tell how thick any bit of 
the stuff is. The surface of the 
field may be ten feet above our 
heads right now. Well, Tema, old 
son, we’re prisoners as surely as 
though we were locked in a chrome 
steel vault a thousand feet under- 
ground. We can’t go anywhere, or 
come back if we go there. We’re 
prisoners, that’s all — and all we 
can do is wait.” 

Eyer grinned. 

Jeter began nonchalantly to slip 
off his helmet and goggles. He 
doffed his flying coat. In a short 
time the two might have been sit- 
ting over liquor and cigars in their 
own library at Mineola. 

“Expecting company?” asked 
Eyer. 

“Most emphatically,” replied 
Jeter. “Company that is an un- 
known quantity. Company that will 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



49 



be wholly and entirely interesting.” 
So they waited. They could now 
feel themselves sinking faster into 
the substance. They settled on an 
even keel, however, but more speed- 
ily than before, as though the di- 
recting intelligence behind all 
these had tired of showing them 
his wonders and was eager to get 
on with the business of the day. 

Eyer happened to look down at 
one of the ports in the floor of the 
cabin. 

“Good God!” he yelled. “Lu- 
cian!” 

H e was pointing. His face had 
gone white again. His eyes 
were bulging. Jeter stared down 
into the floor ports — and gasped. 

“I expected it, but it’s a shock 
just the same, Tema,” he said soft- 
ly. “Get hold of yourself. You’ll 
need all your faculties in a minute 
or two.” 

Through the ports they found 
themselves staring down all of 
twenty feet upon a milky white 
globe, set inside the greater, softer 
globe through which they were 
passing, like a kernel in a shell. 

The plane was oozing through 
the “rind” which protected the 
strange globe below against the 
cold and discomfort of the strato- 
sphere. 

“They’d scarcely bring us this 
far to drop us, would they?” asked 
Eyer. 

He was making a distinct effort 
to regain control of himself. His 
voice was normal, his breathing 
regular — and he had spoken thus 
to show Jeter that this was so. 

“Whether we’re to be dropped or 
lowered is all one to us,” he said, 
“since we can do nothing in either 
case. Twenty feet of fall wouldn’t 
smash us up much.” 

“Let’s keep our eyes on the ceil- 
ing ports and see how this swal- 
lowing job is really done.” 

They alternately looked through 



the floor ports and the ceiling 
ports. 

Under them the gray mass was 
crawling backward off the floor 
ports, leaving them clear. Now all 
of them were clear. Now the gray 
stuff began to vanish from the 
lower ports on either side of the 
cabin. 

“I feel as though we were being 
digested and cast forth,” said 
Jeter. 

The action of the stuff was some- 
thing like that. It had swallowed 
them in their entirety and now was 
disgorging them. 

They watched the stuff move off 
the ports one by one, on either 
side. The lower ones were free. 
Then those next above, the gray 
substance retreating with what 
seemed to be pouting reluctance. 
Finally even the topmost ports 
were clear. 

“The drop comes soon,” said 
Eyer. 

“Wait, maybe not.” 

T hey concentrated on the ceil- 
ing ports for a moment ; but 
the clinging stuff did not vanish 
from them. They turned back to 
look through the floor ports. Right 
under them was the milky globe 
whose surface could easily accom- 
modate their plane. If they had 
needed further proof of some guid- 
ing intelligence behind all this, 
that cleared space was it. They 
were being deliberately lowered to 
a landing place through a portion 
of the “rind” made soft in some 
mechanical way to allow the weight 
of their plane to sink through it. 

They looked up again. Great 
masses of the gray substance still 
clung to the top of their cabin, 
like sticky tar. The substance was 
rubbery and lifelike in its resil- 
iency, its tenacious grasp upon the 
Jeter-Eyer plane. By this means 
the plane was lowered to the 
“ground.” Jeter and Eyer watched. 



50 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



fascinated, as the stuff slipped and 
lost its grip, and slowly retracted 
to become part of the dome above. 

Tne plane had come through this 
white roof, bearing its two pas- 
sengers, and now above them there 
was no slightest mark to show 
where they had come forth. 

They rested on even keel atop 
the inner globe which they now 
could see was attached to the outer 
globe in countless places. 

“I wonder if we dare risk getting 
out,” said Eyer. 

“I think so,” said Jeter. “Look 
there!” 

A trapdoor, shaped something 
like the profile of an ordinary milk 
bottle, was opening in the white 
globe just outside their plane. 
Framed in the door was a face. It 
was a dark face, but it was a hu- 
man one — and the man’s body be- 
low that face was dressed as 
simply, and in almost the same 
fashion, as were Jeter and Eyer 
themselves. He wore no oxygen 
tanks or clothing to keep out the 
cold. 

The partners, lips firmly set, 
nodded to each other and began to 
open their doors. Imperturbably the 
dark man came to meet them. 

Still other dark faces emerged 
from the door. 

CHAPTER IX 

A Scheme Is Described 

T he hands of the two wayfar- 
ers into the stratosphere 
dropped to their weapons as the 
men came through that door which 
masked the inner mystery of the 
white globe. 

One of the men grinned. There 
was a threat in his grin — and a 
promise. 

“I wouldn’t use my weapons if I 
were in your place, gentlemen,” he 
said. “Come this way, please. Sit- 
sumi and The Three wish to see 
you at once.” 



Jeter and Eyer exchanged’ 
glances. Would it do any good to 
start a fight with these people? 
They seemed to be unarmed, but 
there were many of them. And 
probably there were many more 
beyond that door. Certainly this 
strange globe was capable of hold- 
ing a small army at least. 

Jeter shrugged, Eyer answered it 
with an eloquent gesture — and the 
two fell in with those who had 
come to meet them. 

“How about our plane?” said 
Jeter. 

“You need concern yourself with 
it no longer,” replied one. “Its 
final disposal is in the hands of 
Sitsumi and The Three.” 

A cold chill ran along Jeter’s 
spine. There was something too 
final about the guide’s calm re- 
ply. Both adventurers remembered 
again, most poignantly, the fate of 
Kress. 

The leaders stepped through the 
door. A flight of steps led down- 
ward. 

Several of the swarthy-skinned 
folk walked behind Jeter and Eyer. 
There was no gainsaying the fact 
that they were prisoners. 

Jeter and Eyer gasped a little 
as they looked into the interior of 
the white globe. It was of unusual 
extent, Jeter estimated, a complete 
globe; but this one was bisected by 
a floor at its center, of some sub- 
stance that might, for its apparent 
lightness, have been aluminum. 
Plainly it was the dwelling place 
of these strange conquerors of the 
stratosphere. It might have been a 
vast room designed as the dwelling 
place of people accustomed to all 
sorts of personal comforts. 

On the “floor” were several 
buildings, of the same material as 
the floor. It remained to be seen 
what these buildings were for, but 
Jeter could guess, he believed, with 
fair accuracy. The large building 
in the center would be the central 



, LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



51 



control room housing whatever ap- 
paratus of any kind was needed in 
the working of this space ship. 
There were smaller buildings, most 
of them conical, looking oddly like 
beehives, which doubtless housed 
the denizens of the globe. 

T he atmosphere was much like 
that of New York in early 
autumn. It was of equable tempera- 
ture. There was no discomfort in 
walking, no difficulty in breathing. 
Jeter surmised that at least one of 
those buildings, perhaps the cen- 
tral one, housed some sort of oxy- 
gen renewer. Such a device at this 
height was naturally essential. 

The stairs ended. The prisoners 
and their guards stopped at floor 
level. 

Jeter paused to look about him. 
His scientific eyes were studying 
the construction of the globe. The 
idea of escape from the predica- 
ment into which he and Eyer were 
plunged would never be out of his 
head for a moment. 

“Come along, you!” 

Jeter started, stung by the sav- 
agery which suddenly edged the 
voice of the man who had first 
greeted him. There was contempt 
in it — and an assumption of per- 
sonal superiority which galled the 
independent Jeter. 

He grinned a little, looked at 
Eyer. 

“I wonder if we have to take it,” 
he said softly. 

“It seems we might expect a lit- 
tle respect, at least,” Eyer grinned 
in answer. 

The guard suddenly caught Jeter 
by the shoulder. 

“I said to come along!” 

If the man had been intending 
to provoke a fight he couldn’t have 
gone about it in any better way. 
Jeter suddenly, without a change 
of expression, sent a right fist 
crashing to the fellow’s jaw. 

“Don’t use your gat, Eyer,” he 



called to his partner. “We may kill 
a key man who may be necessary 
to our well-being later on. But 
black eyes and broken noses should 
be no bar to efficiency.” 

Without any fuss or hullabaloo, 
the dozen or so denizens of the 
globe who had met the partners 
closed on them. They came on with 
a rush. Jeter and Eyer stood back 
to back and slugged. They were 
young, with youthful joy in battle. 
They were trained to the minute. 
As fliers they took pride in their 
physical condition. They were out- 
numbered, but it was a matter of 
pride with them to demand respect 
wherever they went. It was also a 
matter of pride to down as many 
of the attackers as possible before 
they themselves were downed. 

I T became plain that, though the 
denizens of the globe were 
armed with knives, they were not 
to be used. And it didn’t seem 
they would be needed. The fighters 
were all muscular, well-trained 
fighters. But for the most part they 
fought in the manner of Chinese 
ta chuen, or Japanese ju-jutsu men. 
They used holds that were bone- 
breaking and it taxed the pair to 
the utmost to keep from being 
maimed by their killing strength. 

The swarthy men were men of 
courage, no doubt about that. They 
fought with silent ferocity. They 
blinked when struck, but came back 
to take yet other blows with the 
tenacity of so many bulldogs. There 
was no gainsaying them, it seemed. 
They were here for the purpose of 
subduing their visitors and nothing 
short of death would stop them. 

It wasn’t courtesy, either, that 
failure to use knives, for Jeter saw 
murder looking out of more than 
one pair of eyes as their two pairs 
of fists landed on brown faces, 
smashed noses askew, and started 
eyes to closing. 

“Their leader has them under ab- 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



5Z 



solute control — and that’s a point 
for the enemy,” Jeter panted to 
himself as the strain of battle be- 
gan to tell on him. “They’ve been 
instructed, no matter what we do, 
to bring us to their master or mas- 
ters alive.” 

For a moment he toyed with the 
idea of drawing his weapon and 
firing pointblank into the enemy. 
He knew they would be compelled 
to take lives to escape — and that 
the lives of all these people were 
forfeit anyway because of the 
havoc which had descended upon 
New York City. 

But he didn’t make a move for 
his weapon. It would be sure death 
if he did, for the others were 
armed. 

Brown men fell before the smash- 
ing of their fists. But the end of 
the fight was a foregone conclu- 
sion. Jeter had a bruised jaw. 
Eyer’s nose was bleeding and one 
eye was closed when the reception 
committee finally came to close 
quarters, smothered them by sheer 
weight of numbers, and made them 
prisoners. Jeter’s right wrist was 
manacled to Eyer’s left with a pair 
or ordinary steel handcuffs. Their 
weapons were taken away from 
them now. 

The leader of the committee, 
panting, but apparently uncon- 
cerned over what had happened, 
motioned the two men to lead the 
way. He pointed to the large 
building in the center of the 
“floor.” 

“That way,” he said, “and I hope 
Sitsumi and The Three give us 
permission to throw you out with- 
out parachutes or high altitude 
suits.” 

“Pleasant cuss, aren’t you?” said 
Eyer. “I don’t think you like us.” 

The man would have struck Eyer 
for his grinning levity; but at that 
moment a door opened in the side 
of the large building and a man in 
Oriental robes stood there. 



“Bring them here at once, Naka!” 
he said. 

T he man called Naka, the 
leader whom Jeter had first 
struck, bowed low, with deep re- 
spect, to the man in the doorway. 

“Yes, O Sitsumi!” he said. As he 
spoke he sucked in his breath with 
that snakelike hissing sound which 
is the acme of politeness in Japan 
— “that my humble breath may not 
blow upon you” — and spread wide 
his hands. “They are extremely low 
persons and dared lay hands upon 
your emissaries.” 

Eyer grinned again. 

“I think,” he called, “there trans- 
pired what might be called a gen- 
eral laying on of hands by all 
hands.” 

“I deeply deplore your inclina- 
tion to levity, Tema Eyer,” said 
the man in the doorway. “It is not 
seemly in one whose intelligence 
entitles him to a place in our coun- 
sels.” 

Eyer looked at Jeter. What was 
the meaning of Sitsumi’s cryptic 
utterance ? 

“Bring them in,” snapped Sit- 
sumi. 

Jeter studied the man with in- 
terest. He knew instantly who he 
was and understood why Sitsumi 
had refused to answer his radio 
messages to Japan. He couldn’t 
very well have done so in the cir- 
cumstances. Here, under the broad 
dome of Sitsumi, was probably the 
greatest scientific brain of the cen- 
tury. Jeter saw cruelty in his eyes, 
too; ruthlessness, and determina- 
tion. 

The prisoners were marched into 
the room behind Sitsumi, who 
stepped aside, looking curiously at 
Jeter and Eyer as they passed him. 
Inside the door, pausing only a 
moment to glance over the big 
room’s appointments, Jeter turned 
on Sitsumi. 

“Just what do you intend doing 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



53 



with us, Sitsumi?” he asked. “I 
suppose it’s useless to ask you, 
also, what the meaning of all this 
is?” 

“I shall answer both your ques- 
tions, Jeter,” said Sitsumi. “Step 
this way, please. The Three should 
hear our conference.” 

They were conducted into a 
smaller room. Its floors were cov- 
ered with skins. There were easy 
chairs and divans. It might have 
been their own luxuriously appoint- 
ed rooms at IvTineola. At a long 
table three men — all Orientals — 
were deeply immersed in some ac- 
tivity which bent their heads ab- 
sorbedly over the very center of 
the table. It might have been a 
three-sided chess game, by their at- 
titudes. 

“Gentlemen!” said Sitsumi. 

The three men turned. 

“My colleagues, Wang Li, Liao 
Wu and Yung Chan,” Sitsumi in- 
troduced them. “Without them our 
great work would have been im- 
possible.” 

H ere were the three missing 
Chinese scientists. Jeter and 
Eyer had seen many pictures of 
them. Jeter wondered whether 
their adherence to Sitsumi were 
voluntary or forced. But it was 
voluntary, of course. The three 
brains of these brilliant men could 
easily have outwitted Sitsumi had 
they been unwilling to associate 
themselves with him. The three 
Orientals bowed. 

Jeter and Eyer were bidden to 
take chairs side by side. The 
guards drew back a little but never 
took their eyes off the two. Sit- 
sumi ranged himself beside his 
colleagues at the table. 

“I’ll answer your questions now, 
gentlemen, in the presence of my 
colleagues so that you shall know 
that we are together in what we 
propose. We wish you to join us. 
The only alternative is . . . well. 



you recall what happened to your 
countryman, Kress? "rhe same, or a 
similar fate, will be yours if you 
don’t ally yourselves with us.” 

Jeter and Eyer exchanged 
glances. 

“Just what are you doing?” . 
asked Jeter. “I’ve seen some of 
the results of your activities, but I 
can see no reason for them. I 
would pronounce everything you 
have done so far to be the acts of 
madmen.” 

“We are not mad,” said Sitsumi. 
“We are simply a group of people 
of mixed blood who deplore the 
barriers of racial prejudice, for one 
thing. We are advocates of a delib- 
erately contrived super-race, pro- 
duced by the amalgamation of the 
best minds and the best bodies of 
all races. We ourselves are what 
the world calls Eurasians. In our 
youth people patronized us. In Asia 
we were shunned. We were 
shunned everywhere by both races 
from which we trace our ancestry. 
We are not trying to be avenged 
upon the world because we have 
been pariahs. We are not so petty. 
But by striving until we have be- 
come the world’s four greatest sci- 
entists we have proved to our own 
satisfaction that a mixture of blood 
is a wholesome thing. This expedi- 
tion of ours, and its effect so far 
on New York City, is the result of 
our years of planning.” 

“I see no need for wholesale 
murder. Lecture platforms are open 
to all creeds, all races. . . .” 

Something suggestive of a sneer 
creased Sitsumi’s lips. The Three 
did not change expression in the 
least. 

*‘T~^E0PLE do not listen to rea- ' 

jRT son. They listen to force. 
We will use force to make them 
listen, in the end, to reason — 
backed in turn by force, if you like. 
We have settled on New York 
from which to begin our conquest 



54 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



of the world because it is the 
world’s largest, richest, most rep- 
resentative city. If we control New 
York we control the wealth of the 
North American continent, and 
therefore the continent itself. Our 
destruction of buildings in New 
York City serve a twofold purpose. 
It prepares the inhabitants to lis- 
ten to us later because, seeing what 
we are capable of doing, they will 
be afraid not to. Our efficiency is 
further shown in our destruction 
of the old out-of-date buildings, 
chosen for destruction simply be- 
cause they are obsolete. The New 
York City of our schemes will be 
a magic city. . . .” 

“But what is your purpose, in a 
few words?” insisted Jeter. 

“The foundation of a world gov- 
ernment; the destruction of the 
mentally deficient; the scientific 
production of a mixed race of in- 
tellectuals, comparable to, but 
greater than, that of ancient 
Greece, which was great because it 
was a human melting pot.” 

“How are you going to do it — 
after you’ve finished your grand- 
stand plays?” said Eyer. 

Sitsumi stared at Eyer, his eyes 
narrowing. Eyer was making his 
dislike entirely too plain. Jeter 
nudged him, but the question had 
been asked. 

“With this space ship — and 
others which are building,” replied 
Sitsumi. “Haven’t you guessed at 
any of our methods?” 

“Yes,” said Jeter, “I know you 
are the rumored inventor of a sub- 
stance which is invisible because 
light rays are bent around it in- 
stead of passing through, yet the 
result is as though they actually 
passed through. I judge that the 
shell, or skin, of this stratosphere 
ship is composed of this substance, 
whose formula of construction is 
your secret. Light rays passing 
around it would render it invisible, 
yet would make the beholding eye 



seem to see in a straight line as 
usual, disregarding refraction.” 
Sitsumi nodded. The Three nod- 
ded with him, like puppets. But 
their eyes were glowingly alive. 

“You are right. Are you further 
interested? If you have no interest 
in our theories there is little need 
to pursue our plans further, where 
you are concerned.” 

“We are interested, of course,” 
said Jeter. “We are interested in 
your theories, without committing 
ourselves to acceptance of them; 
and we are naturally interested in 
saving our lives. Let us say then, 
for the moment, that we do not 
refuse to join you.” 

CHAPTER X 
How It Came About 

OU will have twenty-four 
X hours in which to decide 
whether to join us,” was Sitsumi’s 
ultimatum. “We would not allow 
you five minutes were it not that 
our cause would be benefited by 
the addition of your scientific 
knowledge.” 

Sitsumi did not repeat the alter- 
native. Remembering Kress, Jeter 
and Eyer did not need to ask him. 
There was but one alternative — 
death — a. particularly horrible one. 
That Sitsumi and the Three would 
not hesitate was amply proved. Al- 
ready they were guilty of the death 
of thousands. They were in deadly 
earnest with their scheme for a 

world government. 

Jeter and Eyer were kept 

shackled together, and were, in ad- 

dition, chained to the floor of the 
main room of the white globe with 
leg irons. Their keys were in the 
hands of Naka, whose hatred of 
Jeter for hitting him on the jaw 
was so malevolent it fairly glowed 
from his eyes like sparks shot 
forth. 

Food was brought them when 

asked for. It wasn’t easy to partake 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



55 



of it, because their manacled hands 
had to be moved together, which 
made it extremely awkward. 

Jeter and Eyer set themselves 
the task of trying to figure some 
way out in the twenty-four hours 
of life still left them if they failed. 
That Hadley, down in New York 
City, and all the best minds v,^ho 
were cooperating with Jeter and 
Eyer in their mad effort to avert 
world catastrophe, would make 
every effort to come to their assist- 
ance by sending up the planes 
which must even now be nearing 
completion, they hadn’t the slight- 
est doubt. 

Would they arrive in time? Even 
if they did, was there anything 
they could possibly do to save 
themselves? Surely this space ship 
must be vulnerable. Else why did 
it climb so high into the strato- 
sphere? It was far beyond the 
reach of ordinary planes. High tra- 
jectory projectiles had slight 
chance of hitting it, even if it 
were visible. What then was its 
vulnerability, which this hiding 
seemed to indicate? They must 
know within twenty-four hours. 

So they sat side by side, watch- 
ing events unfold. The Three talked 
mandarin. Eyer, for all his levity, 
was a man of unusual attainments. 
He understood mandarin, for one 
thing — a fact which even Jeter did 
not know at first. The Chinese 
never seemed even to consider that 
either of them might know the 
tongue. Chinese seldom found for- 
eigners who did comprehend them. 
In only so much were The Three 
in the least bit careless. 

Eyer strained his ears to hear 
everything which passed between 
Sitsumi and the Three. Both men 
listened to any chance words in 
English or French on the part of 
all hands within the globe which 
might give them a hint. 

And in those twenty-four hours 
the sky-scientists learned much. 



T hey conversed together, when 
they spoke of important mat- 
ters which they wished hidden 
from their captors, out of the cor- 
ners of their mouths after the 
method of criminals. They used it 
with elaborate unconcern. They 
might have seemed to be simply 
staring into space at such moments, 
dreading approaching death per- 
haps, and simply twiddling their 
fingers. But by each other every 
word was clearly heard. 

“That last outburst of Sitsumi’s 
explains a lot of the reported ac- 
tivity in the Lake Baikal region, 
beyond the Gobi,” swiftly dropped 
from Jeter’s lips. “The materials 
which Sitsumi uses in the prepara- 
tion of his light-ray-bending sub- 
stance are found near there some- 
how. And that means that the 
Japanese guards — which may be 
Eurasian guards, after what Sitsumi 
told us — and employees of this un- 
holy crowd, are busily engaged in 
the preparation of other space 
ships.” 

“Does this thing seem to have 
any armament?” asked Eyer. 

Jeter signified negation with a 
swift movement of his head. 

“Their one weapon seems to be 
the apparatus which causes that 
ray. You know, the ray which lifts 
buildings, pulling them up by the 
roots.” 

“Have you any idea what it is?” 
“Yes. That last stuff of the 
Three which you translated for me 
gives me a clue. At first I thought 
that they had perfected some sub- 
stance, perhaps with unknown elec- 
trical properties, which nullified 
gravity. But that won’t prove out. 
If the ray simply nullified gravity, 
the buildings down there, while 
weightless, would not rise as they 
did. They might sway if somebody 
breathed against them. A midget 
might lift one with his finger; but 
they wouldn’t fly skyward as they 
did — and do!” 



56 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



For a moment the partners 
ceased their whispering and talked 
together naturally to disarm suspi- 
cion. The fact that the space ship 
and its ruthless denizens still en- 
gaged in the awful work of devas- 
tation was amply being proved. In 
the main room it was possible, 
through the use of telescopes and 
audiphones — set into the walls so 
that they were invisible, yet en- 
abled any one in the room to see 
everything, and hear everything 
that transpired on the far earth 
below — ^to keep close watch on the 
work of the destroyers. Anything 
close enough could be seen with 
the naked eye through the walls of 
the globe. 

N OW the space ship was sys- 
tematically destroying build- 
ings the length and breadth of 
Manhattan Island. The river-front 
buildings were destroyed in a sin- 
gle sweep, from north to south, of 
the ghastly ray. Farther back from 
the Hudson, however, after the 
water-front buildings had been re- 
duced to mere piles of rubble, the 
most beautiful, most modern build- 
ings were left standing. 

“Can’t you just imagine those 
beautiful structures filled with the 
monsters created by the genius of 
Sitsumi and the Three — and their 
as yet unknown lieutenants back at 
Lake Baikal?” 

Eyer gritted his teeth. His hands 
closed atop the table at which they 
were seated. The knuckles went 
white with the strain. The lips of 
both men were white. They realized 
to the full the dreadful responsi- 
bility which they had assumed. 
They knew how abysmally hope- 
less was their chance of accom- 
plishing an3Tthing. And without 
some gigantic effort being made, 
the world as they knew it would 
be destroyed. In its place would be 
a race of strange beings, of venge- 
ful hybrids endowed from birth 



with the will to conquer, or destroy 
utterly. 

“You were speaking of the levi- 
tating ray,” prompted Eyer with a 
swift change to the sidewise whis- 
pering. 

“From what you heard I’m sure 
it is something invented by Liao 
Wu, Yung Chan and Wang Li. In 
so much they have an advantage 
over Sitsumi. I doubt if there is 
any love lost among them, beyond 
the fact that they need one an- 
other. Sitsumi is master of the sub- 
stance which bends light rays — 
and thus is rendered invisible, 
while the Three are masters of the 
ray which not only propels this 
space ship, but is the agency by 
which buildings are torn up, 
dropped and destroyed. It’s plain 
to me that this room is the control 
room of the space ship. The ray is 
— ^well, it’s as difficult to explain as 
electricity, and perhaps as simple 
in its operation. The ray does more 
than nullify gravity — can be made 
to reverse gravity ! Let’s call the 
ray the gravity inverter for want 
of a better name. It makes any- 
thing it touches literally fall away 
from the Earth, toward the point 
whence the ray emanates!” 

“And if we were to obtain con- 
trol of the apparatus which har- 
nesses the ray?” 

“We lack the knowledge of the 
Three for its operation. No, we’ve 
got to find some simpler solution 
in the brief time we have.” 

A t this point the partners had 
been within the white globe 
about ten hours and they had 
learned much about it. The inner 
globe, for example, maintained an 
even keel, no matter how the space 
ship as a whole moved on its rays 
that seemed like table legs. The 
gyroscopic principle was used. The 
inner globe was movable within the 
outer globe, or rind. If for any 
reason the space ship listed in one 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



57 



direction or the other, the inner 
globe, while it rose and fell nat- 
urally, remained upright, its floor 
always level so that, the gyroscope 
controlling the whole, the central, 
levitating, ray would always, must 
always, as it proved, point down- 
ward. 

Try as they might, the partners 
could not see how the Three 
manipulated the ray. They guessed 
that there were many buttons on 
the table at which they sat. The 
table itself was not an ordinary 
table. What might have been called 
a fifth leg, squarely under the cen- 
ter of the table, was about three 
feet square. Through this, Jeter 
guessed, ran the wires by which 
they controlled all their activities, 
machinery to operate which had 
been installed under the floor in 
the unseen lower half of the inner 
globe. 

They knew that must remain for- 
ever a secret from them. 

There was a sudden stir among 
the Three. Jeter and Eyer turned 
aside for a moment to peer down 
upon New York City. They held 
their breath with horror as they 
saw the smoking devastation which 
must have buried thousands of peo- 
ple. The wrecking had been all but 
complete. Only the finest buildings 
still stood. Jeter wondered why the 
falling back of the shattered build- 
ings had not shaken down those 
which the Sitsumi crowd had not 
wished to destroy. The repeated 
shocks must almost have shaken 
Manhattan Island on its founda- 
tions. 

They saw what had caused the 
sudden stiffening of the Three. Sit- 
sumi, busily engaged at something 
else nearby, quietly approached the 
Three. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“Rescue planes,” said Wang Li. 
“New York City sends six fliers to 
rescue Jeter and Eyer. New planes. 
They’ll reach lis, Sitsumi. We 



should have thought to destroy all 
dangerous air ports. A fatal over- 
sight!” 

Sitsumi’s eyes were grave. He 
looked at each of the Three in 
turn. 

“God!” said Jeter’s whispering 
lips. “If we could read their minds! 
If only we could guess what it is 
they fear, we’d have the secret by 
which we might destroy them.” 

“They’re vulnerable,” said Eyer, 
“but how?” 

“Watch!” said Jeter. “Listen! 
And here’s to those six unknowns 
coming up to, maybe, get the same 
dose we’re due for! We were close- 
ly watched. New York City knows 
exactly where we vanished in the 
sky. Those six planes are aiming at 
us — at a spot in the stratosphere 
they can’t see. And yet, why should 
Sitsumi and the Three be so fear- 
ful? All they have to do is move a 
half mile in any direction and 
they’ll never find them.” 

“But to move will interfere with 
their plans,” said Eyer. “Lucian, 
look at the expressions on their 
faces! Something tells me they are 
vulnerable in ways we haven’t 
guessed at. If we knew the secret 
maybe we could destroy them. 
We’ve got to discover their weak 
spot.” 

T HERE was a long pause while 
Jeter and Eyer watched the 
rescue ships come climbing up the 
endless stairways of the sky. Then 
Jeter whispered again, guardedly as 
usual. 

“There seems to be nothing we 
can do. If our friends are able, by 
some miracle, to do something, you 
know what that means to us?” 

“It means we’re as good as dead 
no matter what happens,” replied 
Eyer. “But we’re only two — and 
there must be a million buried 
under the debris in New York City 
alone. If we can do anything at 
all. . . .” 



58 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



There he left it. The partners 
looked at each other. Each read the 
right answer in the other’s eyes. 
When the showdown came they’d 
die as cheerfully as they knew how, 
hoping to the last to do something 
for the people who must still hope 
that, somehow, they would cause 
this bitter cup of catastrophe to 
pass from them. And there were 
thousands upon thousands whose 
blood cried out for vengeance. 

The hours sped as the six planes 
fled upward. To the ears of the 
partners, through the audiphones, 
came the stern roaring of their 
motors. In their eyes they bulked 
larger and larger as the time fled 
away. 

The sand in the hour-glass was 
running out. When it was all gone, 
and the time had come, what could 
the helpless Jeter and Eyer hope 
to accomplish? 

For an hour they studied the 
concerned faces of Sitsumi and the 
Three. 

They were fearful of something. 

What? 

CHAPTER XI 
To the Rescue 

“TXTHY should we run?” the 

V V voice of Sitsumi suddenly 
rang out in the control room. 
“Must we admit in the very begin- 
ning of our revolution that we are 
■ vulnerable? Must we confess the 
fears to which all humanity is 
heir? We had not thought our- 
selves liable to attack, but there 
still is a way to destroy these up- 
starts. To your places, everyone! 
We shall fight these winged up- 
starts and destroy them!” 

The denizens of the space ship 
were at their stations. Jeter and 
Eyer could imagine the minions of 
Sitsumi and the Three, below the 
floor of the white globe, standing- 
to on platforms about the unseen 
engines which gave life and mova- 



bility to this ship of the strato- 
sphere. How many there were of 
them there was no way of knowing. 
They had guessed two hundred. 
There might have been a thousand. 
It scarcely mattered. 

Sitsumi’s face was set in a firm 
mask. He, of all the “lords of the 
stratosphere,” seemed to possess 
endless courage. His example fired 
the three. 

“What do you plan?” asked 
Wang Li. 

Jeter and Eyer listened with all 
their ears. 

“We have only one weapon in 
this unexpected emergency,” said 
Sitsumi quietly. “We cannot direct 
the ray upward or laterally: it is 
not so constructed. But we can at- 
tack with the space ship itself! 
And remember that so long as our 
outer rind remains intact and hard 
we are invisible to attackers.” 

Jeter and Eyer exchanged 
glances. 

“If only we could find the way 
to break or soften that outer rind,” 
said Jeter. 

“What can we do?” asked Eyer. 
“If it is impervious to the cold of 
these heights ; if it is so strong 
that it is impervious to the tre- 
rnendous pressure inside the globe 
— which must be kept at a certain 
degree to maintain human life — 
what can we do? We tried bullets. 
We might as well have used peas 
and pea-shooters. If our friends 
try bombs they will still be unsuc- 
cessful. If only we could somehow 
open up the outer rind or soften 
it, so that our friends could see the 
inner globe and reach it with their 
bombs !” 

Jeter’s face was now dead white. 
His eyes were aglow with excite- 
ment. 

“Tema,” he whispered, “Tema, 
that’s their vulnerability! That’s 
what they fear! They’re scared 
that the outer rind may be broken 
— ^which would spell destruction to 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



59 



the space ship and everybody in 
it.” 

“Including us,” replied Eyer, 
“but, anyway — well, what’s the 
odds? We’re only two — and with 
this thing destroyed the nightmare 
will end. Of course there should 
be some way to raid the Lake Bai- 
kal area and destroy any other 
ships in the making, besides ferret- 
ing out the secret of the invisible 
substance and the elements of the 
gravity inverter. If we somehow 
survive, and this ship is destroyed, 
that’s the next thing to do.” 

Jeter nodded and signaled Eyer 
to cease whispering. 

T hey devoted their attention 
now to the six planes. They 
were coming up in battle forma- 
tion. They were in plain view and 
through the telescopes it could be 
seen that each was armed with 
bombs of some kind. Useless 
against the invisible space ship as 
matters now stood; but what would 
those bombs do to the inner globe? 

It still lacked several hours of 
the time allowed in the ultimatum 
to Jeter and Eyer of Sitsumi and 
the Three, when the six planes 
leveled off within a couple of miles 
of the space ship. They knew about 
where the stratosphere had swal- 
lowed up Jeter and Eyer. Now 
they were casting about for a sign, 
like bloodhounds seeking the spoor 
of an enemy. 

Jeter and Eyer held their breaths 
as they watched. Now and again 
they stole glances at Sitsumi and 
the Three, who were watching the 
six planes with the intensity of 
eagles preparing to dive. 

Naka stepped up close to Jeter. 
“When the time comes,” he said 
menacingly, “and it apears that we 
may be in difficulties with the fools 
who think to thwart Sitsumi and 
the Three and rescue you, it shall 
give me great pleasure to destroy 
you with your own automatic.” 



“Pleasant fellow,” said Eyer. 
“Shall I smash him, Lucian?” 

Jeter shook his head. 

“Our friends out there will look 
after that, Tema,” he said in a nat- 
ural tone of voice. “I’ll bet you 
two to one they get this ship with- 
in an hour. Not that a bet will 
mean anything, as they’ll get us, 
too!” 

“Your friends,” said Naka, “will 
be destroyed. They will not even 
be given the opportunity you were 
given. Sitsumi and the Three will 
waste but little time on them!” 

“What,” said Jeter calmly, “is 
Sitsumi’s hurry? Why is he 
scared?” 

“Scared?” Naka seemed on the 
point of hitting Jeter for the blas- 
phemy, “Scared? He fears nothing. 
We’ll down your friends long be- 
fore their motors — ” 

Sitsumi suddenly turned and 
looked at Naka. The look in Sit- 
sumi’s eyes was murderous, Naka 
went dead white. 

“I think your master believes 
you talk too much, Naka,” said 
Jeter, but Jeter’s eyes were gleam- 
ing, too. 

As soon as Sitsumi had turned 
back to his station Jeter’s lips be- 
gan to move, 

“See?” he said. “It isn’t their 
machine guns these people fear. It 
isn’t their bombs — it’s their motors! 
I wonder why. . . .” 

B y now the six planes were fly- 
ing abreast, in battle forma- 
tion, almost above the space ship, 
at perhaps a thousand feet greater 
elevation. A strange humming 
sound was traveling through the 
space ship. The whole inner globe 
was vibrating, shaking — and vibra- 
tion was a menace to glass or 
crystal ! 

“We’ve got the answer!” said 
Jeter. “The outer rind, while capa- 
ble of being softened — in sections 
at least, with safety — for special 



60 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



reasons, such as happened when we 
were ‘swallowed,’ can be hardened 
to the point of disruption. It can 
be shattered, Tema, by vibration! 
That’s why the space ship keeps 
far above the roar of cities! The 
humming of countless automobile 
engines might shatter the rind! 
God, I hope this is the answer!” 

In his mind’s eye Eyer could 
picture it — the outer rind “freez- 
ing” solid, and cracking with the 
thunderous report of snapping ice 
on a forest lake. No wonder Sit- 
sumi and the Three must destroy 
the six planes. 

“Now!” yelled Sitsumi. “Shift 
position! The space ship will be 
hurled directly at the formation of 
planes! Wang Li, to the beam con- 
trols!” 

Wang Li sprang to the table, 
pressed a button. The humming 
sound in the space ship grew to 
mighty proportions. The trembling 
increased. 

Jeter and Eyer kept their eyes 
glued to the six planes above. 
Without tilting their noses the six 
planes seemed to plunge straight 
down toward the surface of the 
space ship. Thus the two knew that 
the space ship was in motion — it- 
self being bodily hurled, as its only 
present weapon of offense, against 
the earthling attackers. 

A split second — 

One of the planes struck the sur- 
face solidly and crashed. Instantly 
its wheels and its motor were 
caught in the outer rind. 

The other five ships scattered 
wildly, escaping the collision by 
some sixth sense, or through pure 
chance. 

“Poor devil!” said Jeter. “But his 
buddies can see his plane and know 
that it marks the spot where they 
could conveniently drop their 
bombs.” 

Eyer was on the point of nod- 
ding when Sitsumi shouted. 

“Quickly, Wang Li! Spin the 



outer shell before the enemy uses 
the wrecked plane as an aiming 
point!” 

A WHIRRING sound. The plane 
whirled around as though it 
were twirled on the end of a 
string. To the five other pilots it 
must have seemed that the plane 
had struck some invisible obstruc- 
tion, been smashed, and now was 
whirling away to destruction after 
a strange, incomprehensible hesita- 
tion in the heart of the strato- 
sphere. 

“Quickly, you fool!” shouted Sit- 
sumi at Wang Li. “You’re napping! 
You should have got all those 
planes! And you should have spun 
the outer globe instantly, before 
the remaining enemy had a chance 
to find out our location.” 

“I can move away a half mile,” 
suggested Wang Li. 

“We’ve got to silence those 
motors, fool!” yelled Sitsumi. “You 
know very well that we can’t run. 
Charge them again, and take care 
this time that you crash into the 
middle of their formation.” 

“They’re scattered over too great 
an area. I should wait for them to 
reform.” 

“Fool! Fool! Don’t you think I 
know the weakness in my own in- 
vention? The proper vibration will 
destroy us! If the rind is softened 
we become visible. We dare not 
wait for them to reform! Attack 
each plane separately if necessary, 
and at top speed!” 

Jeter began to speak rapidly out 
of the corner of his mouth. Even 
Naka’s attention was fastened on 
the five planes and Wang Li’s ef- 
forts to destroy them. 

“Gag Naka!” said Jeter. “The 
keys! In some way we’ve got to get 
to our plane. It’s barely possible. 
If we can start the motor. . . . 
Hurry! Now, while the whole out- 
fit is watching our friends out 
there !” 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



61 



Eyer rose and reached for Naka 
with his right hand. 

He dared not miss his lunge. He 
did not. His huge hand fastened in 
the throat of their keeper. Nobody 
— neither Sitsumi nor the Three- 
turned as Naka gasped and strug- 
gled. Eyer pulled the man back 
over the table and, his neck thus 
within reach of both hands, 
snapped it as he would have broken 
the neck of a chicken. 

Jeter was already searching the 
body for the keys. He found them. 

Their leg irons were just falling 
free when Sitsumi turned. Eyer was 
feeling for the automatics in 
Naka’s belt. 

“We won’t need them!” yelled 
Jeter. “There isn’t time. Let’s go!” 

Jeter was away at top speed, al- 
most pulling Eyer off his feet be- 
cause their hands were still fast- 
ened together with the handcuffs. 

They were outside on the floor 
level. 

And through many doors deni- 
zens of the lower control room, 
hurried out by the commands of 
Sitsumi, were racing to head them 
off. But nothing could stop them. 
One man got in their way and 
Eyer’s- right fist caved in his face 
with one deadly, devastating blow. 
They had now reached the stairs. 

T he space ship was being 
hurled at the five remaining 
planes. Even as the two men 
reached the stairs and started up, 
another of the dauntless rescuers 
paid with his life for his courage. 
Several bombs exploded as his 
plane struck the space ship, but 
they caused no damage whatever. 
The hard outer rind seemed to be 
impervious to the explosions. Ob- 
viously no explosive could destroy 
the space ship. 

“Quickly, Tema,” said Jeter. 
“The rind can be shattered by vi- 
bration, and we’ve got to do it 
somehow.” 



“And after that?” panted Eyer. 

“Our friends out there can then 
see the inner globe. They’ll drop 
bombs. They’ll smash in the globe 
and — ” 

“I know,” said Eyer. “Its inhabi- 
tants, including us, will start off in 
all directions through the strato- 
sphere, with great speed, and prob- 
ably in many pieces.” 

Jeter laughed. Eyer laughed with 
him. They didn’t fear death, for 
now they felt they were on the 
verge of destroying this monster 
of space. 

Their pursuers were following 
them closely. 

Jeter frantically tried to un- 
fasten the handcuffs as they ran. 
He didn’t manage it until the door 
was almost reached. He left one 
cuff dangling on his right wrist. 

Then, they were through the 
door. 

“Now, Tema,” shouted Jeter, “if 
you believe in God — if you have 
faith — pray for strength to move 
this plane!” 

“Where?” 

“So that its wheels and nose go 
through this open door ! Then it 
won’t travel forward when we start 
the motor — and our pursuers won’t 
be able to get through to stop us.” 

“You think of everything, don’t 
you?” There was a grin on Eyer’s 
face. But his eyes were stern. He 
wasn’t belittling their deadly 
danger. And there was also a 
chance that Jeter’s vibration idea 
was wrong. 

“Those four planes,” panted 
Jeter, as the two tried to get their 
plane in motion toward the door, 
“cause, from a distance, through 
thin air, a slight vibration, varying 
with their distance from the globe; 
our plane, motor racing and actu- 
ally in contact with the globe, can 
set up a tremendous vibration by 
its great motor speed. If we can 
vibrate the globe up to its shatter- 
ing point there’s a chance!” 



62 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



“We can’t pull her, Lucian,” said 
Eyer. “I’ll do a Horatius at the 
door. You get in, start the motor, 
taxi her until the wheels go 
through. I’ll keep the crowd back.” 
“Right!” 

Jeter went through the doors 
into the plane. In a few seconds 
the propeller kicked over, hesitat- 
ed, kicked again. Then the motor 
coughed, coughed again, and broke 
into a steady roaring. 

CHAPTER XII 
High Chaos 

T he plane moved forward. Its 
tail swung around. Its wheels 
headed for the door. They dropped 
through, into the faces of the fore- 
most pursuers, all of whom were 
thus effectually blocked off. 

The plane was held as in a vise. 
The propeller vanished in a blur 
as Jeter let the motor out. It was 
humming an even, steady note. The 
doors came open again. 

Jeter came out, his eyes glowing. 
“We haven’t the chance of the 
proverbial celluloid dog chasing 
the asbestos cat,” he shouted to be 
heard above the roar of the motor. 
“But grab your high altitude suit, 
oxygen container, and parachute, 
and let’s get as far away from this 
plane as we can. Who knows? 
When the end comes we may get a 
break, at that!” 

They ran until the bulge of the 
inner globe all but hid the plane 
from them. They could see only 
the top wing. They did not go 
farther because they wished to 
make sure that the enemy did not 
dislodge the plane and nullify all 
their work. 

“They won’t be able to,” said 
Jeter, “for that motor is pulling 
against the wheels and holding 
them so tight against the side of 
that door that a hundred men 
couldn’t budge the plane. But we 
can’t take chances.” 



Quickly the partners slipped into 
their suits, adjusted their oxygen 
tanks and parachutes. Then Jeter 
slipped back the elastic sleeve of 
his suit and motioned Eyer to do 
the same. The manacles were 
brought into view again. They 
looked at each other. Eyer grinned 
and held out his left hand. Jeter 
snapped the second cuff to Eyer’s 
wrist. 

The act was significant. 

Whatever happened to them, 
would happen to both in equal 
measure. It was a gesture which 
needed no words. If they were 
slain when their friends — if their 
theory was correct — finally saw the 
space ship, they would die together. 
If by some miracle they were 
hurled into outer space and lived 
to use their parachutes — ^well, the 
discomfort was a small price to 
pay to stay together. 

Now they devoted all their at- 
tention to their own situation. 
Four planes still spun warily above 
the space ship. Wang Li was pat- 
ently trying with all his might to 
get all four of them before the 
Jeter-Eyer plane, by shattering the 
rind, disclosed the inner core to 
the bombs of the remaining planes. 

“Lucian!” said the fingers of 
Eyer. “Can you tell whether any- 
thing is happening to the rind?” 

Jeter hesitated for a long time. 
There was a distinct and almost 
nauseating vibration throughout all 
the space ship. And was there not 
something happening to the rind 
over a wide area, directly above 
the Jeter-Eyer plane? 

They could fancy the snapping 
of ice on a forest lake in mid- 
winter. 

They couldn’t hear, in their 
suits. They could only feel. But 
all at once the outer rind, above 
their plane, vanished. At the same 
instant the plane itself, propeller 
still spinning, rose swiftly up 
through the hole in the rind. The 



LORDS OF THE STRATOSPHERE 



63 



air inside the globe was going out 
in a great rush. 

The partners looked at each 
other. At that moment the four 
planes swooped over the space 
ship. . . . 

J ETER and Eyer knew that the 
inner globe had at last become 
visible, for from the bellies of the 
four planes dropped bomb after 
bomb. They fell into the great 
aperture. Jeter and Eyer flung 
themselves flat. But the bombs had 
worked sufficient havoc. They had 
removed all protection from the 
low-pressure stratosphere. The air 
inside the space ship went out with 
a rush. Jeter and Eyer, hearing 
nothing, though they knew that 
the explosions must have been cata- 
clysmic, were picked up and 
whirled toward that opening, like 
chips spun toward the heart of a 
whirlpool. 

But for their space suits they 
would have been destroyed in the 
outrush of air. Out of the inner 
globe came men that flew, sprawled 
out, somersaulting up and out of 
apertures made by the crashing 
bombs. Ludicrous they looked. 
Blood streamed from their mouths. 
Their faces were set in masks of 
agony. There were Sitsumi and, one 
after another, the Three. 

Then, fastened together by the 
cuffs, the partners were being 
whirled over and over, out into 
space. Their last signals to each 
other had been: 

“Even if you’re already dead, 
pull the ripcord ring of your 
chute!” 

Crushed, buffeted, they still re- 
tained consciousness. They sought 
through the spinning stratosphere 
for their rescuers. Thousands of 



feet below — or was it above? — ^they 
saw them. Yes, below, for they 
looked at the tops of the planes. 
Their upward flight had been dizzy- 
ing. They waited until their up- 
ward flight ceased. 

Then, as they started the long 
fall to Earth, they pulled their 
rings and waited for their chutes 
to flower above them. 

Soon they were floating down- 
ward. Side by side they rode. 
Above them their parachutes were 
like two umbrellas, pressed almost 
too closely together. 

They looked about them, seek- 
ing the space ship. 

The devastation of its outer rind 
had been complete, for they now 
could see the inner globe, and it 
too was like — well, like merely part 
of an eggshell. 

The doomed space ship — gyro- 
scope still keeping the ray pointed 
Earthward — describing an erratic 
course, was shooting farther up- 
ward into the stratosphere, pro- 
pelled by that ghastly ray which, 
now no longer controlled by Wang 
Li, drove the space ship madly 
through the outer cold. 

Far below the partners many 
things were falling: broken fur- 
nishings of mad dreamers’ strato- 
sphere laboratories, parts of 
strange machines, whirling, somer- 
saulting things that had once been 
men. 

The partners looked at each 
other. 

The same thought was in the 
mind of each, as the four remain- 
ing planes came in toward them to 
convoy them down — ^that when the 
lords of the stratosphere finally 
reached the far Earth, only God 
would know which was Sitsumi and 
who were the Three. 



The End of Time 

By Wallace West 



is no doubt of it!” 
R The little chemist pushed 
steel-bowed spectacles up 
on his high forehead and 
peered at his dinner guest with 
excited blue eyes. “Time will come 
to an end at six o’clock this morn- 
ing.” 

Jack Baron, young radio engi- 
neer at the Rothafel Radio labora- 
tories, and protege of Dr. Manthis, 
his host, laughed heartily. 

“What a yarn you spin. Doctor,” 
he said. “Write it for the movies.” 
“But it’s true,” insisted the older 
man. “Something 
is paralyzing our 
time - sense. The 
final stroke will 
occur about day- 
break.” 

“Bosh! You mean the earth will 
stop rotating, the stars blink out?” 
“Not at all. Such things have 
nothing to do with time. You may 
know your short waves, but your 
general education has been sadly 
neglected.” The scientist picked up 
a weighty volume. “Maybe this will 
explain what I mean. It’s from Im- 
manuel Kant’s ‘Critique of Pure 
Reason.’ Listen: 

“ ‘Time is not something 
which subsists of itself, or 
which inheres in things as an 
objective determination, and 
therefore remains, when ab- 
straction is made of the sub- 



jective conditions of the intui- 
tion of things. For in the 
former case it would be some- 
thing real, yet without present- 
ing to any power of perception 
any real object. In the latter 
case, as an order of determina- 
tion inherent in things them- 
selves, it could not be ante- 
cedent to things, as their 
condition, nor discerned or in- 
tuited by means of synthetical 
propositions a priori. But all 
this is quite possible when we 
regard time as merely the sub- 
jective condi- 
tion under 
which all our 
intuitions take 
place.’ 



“There. Does that make it clear?” 
“Clear as mud,” grinned Baron. 
“Kant is too deep for me.” 

“I’ll give you another proof,” 
snapped Manthis. “Look at your 
watch.” 

The other drew out his time- 
piece. Slowly his face sobered. 

“Why, I can’t see the second 
hand,” he exclaimed. “It’s just a 
blur!” 

“Exactly! Now look at the min- 
ute hand. Can you see it move?” 
“Yes, quite clearly.” 

“What time is it?” 

“Half past one. Great Scott! So 
that’s why you spun that yarn.” 
Baron hoisted his six feet one out 
64 



By millions of millions tlie crea- 
tures of earth slow and drop when 
their time-sense is mysteriously 
paralyzed. 




of the easy chair. “It’s ’way past 
your bedtime. Didn’t mean to keep 
you up.” He stared again at his 
watch as if it had betrayed him. 
“It seems we just finished dinner. 

I must have dozed off. . . .” 
“Nonsense,” sniffed Manthis. 
“You arrived at eight o’clock — an 
hour late. You and I and my daugh- 
ter had dinner. Then the two of us 
came in here. We smoked a ciga- 
rette or two. Now it’s half-past 
one. Do you heed more proof?” 
“Your theory’s all wet some- 

65 



where,” the younger man protested 
with a shaky laugh. “If my watch 
isn’t broken, time must be speeding 
up, not stopping.” 

“That comes from depending on 
your senses instead of your intelli- 
gence. Think a minute. If the watch 
seems running double speed that 
would indicate that your percep- 
tion of its movements had slowed 
down fifty per cent.” 

Baron sank back into his chair, 
leaned forward and gripped his 
curly black hair with trembling 




66 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



fingers. He felt dizzy and befud- 
dled. 

“June,” called the doctor. Then 
to the agitated youth he added: 
“Watch my daughter when she 
comes in if you still think I’m 
crazy.” 

As he spoke the door flew open 
and a slim, golden-haired girl shot 
into the room like a motion picture 
character in one of those comedies 
which is run double speed. Jack’s 
eyes could hardly follow her move- 
ments. 

She came behind her father and 
threw one slim arm about his shoul- 
ders. She spoke, but her usually 
throaty voice was only a high- 
pitched squeak. 

“Can’t understand you, dear,” in- 
terrupted her father. “Write it 
down.” 

“June is using a drug which I 
prepared to keep her time sense 
normal,” Manthis explained as the 
girl’s pen raced over a pad. “That’s 
why she disappeared after dinner. 
I wanted you to get the full effect. 
Now read this.” 

“The deadline is approaching,” 
the girl’s message read. “You’d bet- 
ter take your injection now. It is 
2:30 A. M.” 

“All right, prepare the hypoder- 
mics,” directed the chemist. He had 
to repeat this in a falsetto voice 
before June understood. “Make one 
for Jack too.” 

June went out at express-train 
speed. 

Baron glanced at his watch again. 
The minute hand was moving with 
the speed at which the second hand 
usually traveled. Three fifteen al- 
ready! 

When he looked up June was in 
the room again with two hypoder- 
mic needles. Quickly she removed 
her father’s coat and made the in- 
jection. 

“Let her fix you up too, boy, un- 
less you want to become a graven 
image,” commanded Manthis. His 



voice, which started at the ordinary 
pitch, went up like a siren at the 
end as the drug took effect. Dazed- 
ly Jack held out his arm. 

T he sting of the needle was 
followed by a roaring in his 
ears like a hundred Niagaras. The 
room seemed to pitch and quiver. 
Staring down at the watch he still 
clutched. Jack saw the hands slow 
down and at last resume their ac- 
customed pace. Gradually the un- 
pleasant sensations died away. 

“That was a close shave,” com- 
mented the doctor, drawing a long 
breath. “I wouldn’t have waited so 
long, except that I wanted to ex- 
perience the sensation of coming 
back from the edge of the infinite. 
Not very nice! Like being pulled 
out of a whirlpool. It’s 4:30 now. 
Took us an hour to return to nor- 
mal, although it seemed only min- 
utes. V/e have an hour and a half 
before the end. June, have you no- 
ticed anything unusual on the 
streets?” 

“Yes,” whispered his daughter, 
her usually piquant face pinched 
and white. “I’ve been watching 
from the balcony. It’s dreadful. The 
people creep about like things in a 
nightmare.” 

Manthis tried to reassure her. On 
his face was a great sadness which 
was, however, overshadowed by a 
greater scientific curiosity. 

“There’s nothing we can do for 
them now,” he said. “But we must 
learn all we can. Let’s go down and 
watch the city die.” 

They descended in an automatic 
elevator and hurried through the 
hotel lobby. The lights of Fifth 
Avenue gleamed as brightly as 
ever. The streets near the lower 
end of Central Park still were 
crowded. But such crowds! They 
moved with infinite' langour. Each 
step required many seconds. 

Yet the people apparently did 
not know that anything unusual 



THE END OF TIME 



67 



was happening. Many perhaps were 
puzzled because their watches 
seemed to be misbehaving but this 
did not stop their conversation as 
they traveled home from theaters or 
night clubs. Two white-haired men 
passed by, engaged in a discussion 
of business affairs. Their voices 
were pitched so low that they 
were almost inaudible to the trio 
of watchers, while their gestures 
looked like the slow waving of the 
antennae of deep sea plants. 

“^/TY God, man!” cried Baron, 
XV-L at last awakening from his 
horror - stricken silence. “Why 
didn’t you warn the world? This is 
criminal. If what you say is true, 
all these people will become rooted 
in their tracks at six o’clock like — 
like characters from ‘The Sleeping 
Beauty.’ ” 

“I only discovered the danger a 
week ago while working out a 
chemical formula.” Manthis’ eyes 
showed the strain he was enduring. 
“It was a very delicate piece of 
work having to do with experi- 
ments I am making on chlorophyl — 
quick adjustments, you know. I’d 
done the thing before many times, 
but last week I couldn’t mix the 
ingredients fast enough to get the 
necessary reaction. Puzzled, I made 
further experiments. The result 
was that I discovered my percep- 
tion of time was slowing down. I 
tested June and found the same 
thing. There was but one conclu- 
sion.” 

“But the drug we are using. How 
did you hit on that?” 

“I recalled that such drugs as 
hashish greatly speed up the time 
sense. An addict is able to review 
his entire past life or plan an elab- 
orate crime between two heartbeats. 
So I collected a small supply of the 
stuff.” 

“But hashish in large doses is 
deadly, and I’ve heard that users of 
it sooner or later develop homicidal 



mania — run amuck as they say in 
India.” 

“True enough,” admitted the 
chemist, “but Andrev, the Russian, 
you know, recently worked out a 
formula to neutralize the deadly 
effects of the drug but retain its 
time-expanding effect for medical 
purposes. I’ve added that to the 
pure drug. There isn’t enough of 
it in New York to keep all these 
people normal for five minutes. 
Why should I have frightened the 
poor things?” 

He relapsed into silence and the 
others found no heart to ask fur- 
ther questions as they watched the 
coming of the end of a world. The 
procession of passers-by had 
thinned somewhat by now. The 
street lights had grown dim. There 
was a look of increasing puzzle- 
ment on the faces of the people 
v/ho remained. Something was 
wrong. They knew not what. 

F loating along the sidewalk 
like a figure in a slow motion 
picture came a tiny tot of three. 
She was sobbing. Great tears 
formed with painful slowness and 
slid down her flushed cheeks. 

“She’s lost,” exclaimed June. 
“Here, darling. I’ll find your mama.” 
She picked up the child and 
looked up and down the street. The 
mother was not in sight. Auto- 
matically she turned to a police- 
man who stood nearby. 

“Officer,” she said quickly, “this 
girl is lost. Will you . . . ?” 

She stiffened in dismay. The 
policeman was staring through her 
as if his eyes had not registered 
her approach. Slowly his gaze 
came into focus. A puzzled look 
came over his Irish face. He spoke. 
It was only a blurred rumble. 

“What can I do for her, Father?” 
June cried, turning away from the 
officer in despair. “She’s dying. 
See? Couldn’t we give her some of 
the drug?” 



68 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



“There’s only enough for us,” 
her father replied firmly. 

“But she’ll be quite dead in an 
hour!” 

“I’m not so sure of that. Perhaps 
only in a state resembling catalepsy. 
We must wait. Jack, take her into 
the lobby. Put her on a sofa 
there.” 

Dawn was paling the blue-black 
sky as the radio engineer re- 
turned. The street lights fluttered 
fitfully and at last died. The 
streets had become deserted al- 
though groups still eddied slowly 
about the subway kiosks. 

“Five forty-five,” whispered Man- 
this. “The end should come any 
moment.” 

As he spoke a white-garbed 
street sweeper, who had been lean- 
ing on his broom at the curb ever 
since the onlookers had reached 
the sidewalk, decided to move on at 
last. With infinite slowness his foot 
came up. He poised, swung for- 
ward, then, the universal paralysis 
overcoming him, remained in a 
strangely ludicrous position for a 
moment before crashing downward 
on his face. 

As far as they could see in the 
semidarkness, others were falling. 
A few, balanced with feet wide 
apart, remained standing like stat- 
ues. Those who collapsed writhed 
slowly a time or two and were 
still. 

After the thudding of the bodies 
had ended the silence became 
ghastly. Not an awakening bird 
twittered in the trees of Central 
Park. Not a sheep bleated in the 
inclosure. Except for their own 
breathing and the sighing of the 
wind, not a sound! Then a far- 
away clock boomed six notes. The 
noise made them start and turn 
pale faces toward each other. 

“Come,” said the doctor heavily. 
“It’s all over. We might as well go 
up. We’ll have to walk. All power 
will be off. Twenty stories!” 



T he lobby of the Hotel Atchi- 
son, on the roof of which the 
penthouse apartment was located, 
was empty now except for a few 
clerks and bellboys. These sat with 
bowed heads before their grills or 
on their benches as . if they had 
merely succumbed to the unpardon- 
able sin of sleeping on duty. But 
they did not breathe. 

June clung to her father’s arm 
as they crossed noiselessly over 
the heavy carpet. 

“The city will be a charnel house 
when these bodies start to decom- 
pose.” Baron hesitated. “Shouldn’t 
we get out of town while there is 
a chance?” 

Manthis shook his head. “No. 
I’m convinced these people aren’t 
dead. They’re simply outside of 
time. Change cannot affect them. 
If I’m not mistaken they will re- 
main just the same indefinitely.” 
“But there will be fires through- 
out the city.” 

“Not many. The electricity is off. 
The day is warm so no furnaces 
are going. Not even a rat is left to 
nibble matches, for the animals 
must be affected in the same way 
that humans are. The world is 
asleep.” 

A fter mounting interminable 
stairs they regained the apart- 
ment and went out on the balcony. 
It was full daylight now but not a 
smoke-plume trailed from tall 
chimneys. Not a bird was on the 
wing. Elevated trains stood on 
their tracks, passengers and guards 
asleep inside. 

“I still don’t understand,” mut- 
tered Baron. “The sun comes up. 
The wind blows. How can that be 
if there is no time? Might this not 
be some plague?” 

“In a way you are right, boy. It 
is a plague which has paralyzed 
man’s sense of time. You have be- 
come involved by not remembering 
Kant’s axiom that time is purely 



THE END OF TIME 



69 



subjective. It exists in the mind 
only. It and space are the only 
ideas inherently in our brains. They 
allow us to conduct ourselves 
among a vast collection of things- 
in-themselves which time does not 
affect.” 

“But—” 

“Wait a moment. Granting that 
time is in the mind rather than in 
the outside world, what will hap- 
pen if the time-sense is paralyzed? 
Won’t the effect be similar to hyp- 
nosis whereby a man is reduced to 
a cataleptic state? The thought 
chain which usually passes cease- 
lessly through the brain is halted.” 

Seeing that the engineer still 
looked puzzled, June interposed: 

“It’s something like enchant- 
ment,” she explained. “The old leg- 
ends are full of it — the Sleeping 
Beauty, Brunhilde, Rip Van Win- 
kle. I am convinced that in ancient 
times a few persons knew how to 
draw a fairy ring about those they 
wished to injure or protect, plac- 
ing them thus outside the reac’n of 
time and change. This has now hap- 
pened the world over, perhaps 
through some drift in the ether or 
germ in the brain. That is what we 
must find out so we can solve the 
mystery and take steps to reawaken 
the world — ” 

“Perhaps this will help,” inter- 
rupted Manthis in his turn. “As 
you know, all the great scientists 
— Einstein, Jeans, Pavlov — are con- 
vinced that everything in the uni- 
verse is a form of vibration. Even 
thought, they believe, operates 
somewhat like a very short radio 
wave. What if some agency, either 
inside or outside the universe, be- 
gan interfering on the thought- 
wave channel?” 

“Granting your supposition,” 
— Jack was on his own ground now 
— “transmission would be impossi- 
ble on that channel.” 

“Exactly! Well, that’s what I am 
convinced is taking place. I’m a 



chemist, not an engineer. I’ve given 
you the lead. You’ll have to do the 
rest. Do you think you might locate 
such interference?” 

“Possibly. I’ll do my best.” 
“Fine! Of course, if it is coming 
from outside the stratosphere as the 
cosmic rays do, there is no hope. 
But if someone is broadcasting such 
a devilish wave from an earthly 
station we may have a chance to 
stop it. 

“Now, Baron, my boy,” he con- 
tinued, dropping into a more jovial 
tone and leading his friend into 
the laboratory, “you’ll have to get 
busy if you intend to keep us tick- 
ing. This equipment is at your dis- 
posal.” He waved toward a newly 
installed short wave radio trans- 
mitter. “Here are storage batteries, 
all charged.” He opened another 
door. “I have a five kilowatt gen- 
erator installed here. It is operated 
by a gasoline engine. If you need 
other equipment you can raid the 
Rothafel plant.” 

R eturning to the main lab- 
oratory he indicated the work 
table set close to a great double 
window overlooking Central Park. 

“Couldn’t ask for anything bet- 
ter, could you?” he smiled. “Plenty 
of light and air and a view of the 
city. Look, you can even see those 
poor devils lying around the sub- 
way kiosk.” His face became bleak. 
Then he shrugged and tried to 
throw off his depression. “June 
and I will help you as much as we 
can. We can raid stores for pro- 
visions and hashish. Now let’s have 
breakfast.” 

The next few days were filled 
with unending labor for the tem- 
poral castaways. From daybreak 
until far into the night, with radio 
receivers clamped over their ears, 
the three twisted dials, adjusted 
rheostats and listened in on long 
and short wave bands. But the 
ether, which once had pulsated with 



70 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



music and friendly voices, now was 
silent, except for static. 

“Makes me think of Sunday 
mornings when I was a boy,” Man- 
this once commented. “Only this is 
more quiet. It gives me the jitters.” 
There was a note of hysteria in his 
voice. 

When the doctor’s nerves began 
to quiver in that manner, Baron al- 
ways insisted that they all rest. 
During such recesses they ate, 
played cards and helped June with 
the housework. The younger man 
was continually amazed by the 
calmness with which the girl faced 
their desperate situation. Clad in a 
blue smock which brought out the 
color of her eyes, she flitted about 
the apartment, manufacturing de- 
licious meals out of canned goods 
and always having a cheery word 
when the others became discour- 
aged. Yet she never would look out 
the window. 

“I can’t bear to see those poor 
souls lying about like rag dolls,” 
she explained. “The only thing that 
keeps me sane is the hope that we 
may reawaken them.” 

I T was on the evening of the 
third day that Baron lifted the 
headset from his burning ears and 
admitted failure. 

“We’ve explored everything but 
the super-short waves,” he sighed. 
“I’ll have to get equipment from 
the laboratories before we start on 
those.” 

June nodded from where she 
perched on a high stool across the 
table. But Manthis did not hear. 
He was making delicate adjust- 
ments on his receiving set and lis- 
tening with rapt attention. 

“I’ve got something,” he cried. 
“Jack. June. Plug in on my panel. 
Someone is talking. It’s very loud. 
Must be close.” 

Instantly the others did as he 
ordered, but were able to catch only 
the last inflections of a ringing 



voice. Then silence settled once 
more. 

“What did he say,” the young- 
sters cried in one breath. 

“Couldn’t understand. Some for- 
eign language.” The chemist was 
furious with disappointment. “But 
I’d recognize that voice among a 
thousand. We must get in touch 
with him. Perhaps he can help us. 
God knows we need assistance. 
Quick, Jack. You’re an expert. See 
if you can pick up a reply.” 

Baron leaned over his instru- 
ments, heart thumping. The dread- 
ful loneliness against which he had 
been fighting was broken. Others 
were alive! 

Minutes passed and the evening 
light died away. They were too 
excited to strike a light. Shadows 
crept out of the corners and sur- 
rounded them. At last a faint voice 
grew in their ears. But again the 
words were unintelligible. 

“Sounds a little like Greek,” 
puzzled the girl, “but it isn’t.” 

Baron adjusted the direction 
finder and made scribbled calcula- 
tions. 

“Coming from the southeast and 
far away,” he breathed. 

“I caught a word then,” gasped 
the doctor. “ ‘Ganja,’ it was.” 

“What does that tell us?” snapped 
Jack, his nerves jumping. 

“Ganja is the Hindu word for 
hashish, that’s all. My Lord, man, 
don’t you understand? The station 
is in India. Those who operate it 
are using Andrev’s solution as we 
are. I — ” 

“Listen!” shouted Jack. 

T here was a grinding and 
clashing in t’ne receivers. Then 
a new voice, harsh and strained 
with excitement, almost burst their 
eardrums. 

“Beware! Beware!” it screamed. 
“Do not trust him. He is a devil 
arid has put the world asleep. His 
mind is rotten with hashish. He is 



THE END OF TIME 



71 



a demon from — ” Then came a dull, 
crunching sound. The voice 
screamed and died away. 

In the darkened laboratory the 
faces of the three listeners stood 
out like ovals of white cardboard. 

“What do you make of that?” 
stammered Baron at last. 

“It looks as if the only persons 
alive, in New York at least, are 
hashish addicts — ^^the most debased 
and murderous of drug fiends.” 
The doctor stopped, his eyes dilat- 
ing with horror. June crept close 
to him and threw an arm around 
his shaking shoulders. “Can’t you 
see? Their time-sense expanded too. 
Like us they were unaffected. But 
unlike us they use tl^e pure drug. 
Hashish smokers are without ex- 
ception homicidal maniacs, vicious 
criminals. God !” 

“Are they responsible for the 
end of time?” queried Jack. 

“I don’t know. Perhaps some 
master mind among them is back of 
it — some engineering wizard v/ho 
has succumbed to the drug so re- 
cently, or who has such a strong 
constitution that his intelligence 
has not been destroyed.” 

The little doctor dragged off his 
headset, disarranging his sparse 
gray hair. His face was tired and 
worn but his jaw thrust forward 
pugnaciously. 

“We’re making headway,” he 
cried. “We know the probable 
author of the catastrophe is a drug 
addict and that he is located near- 
by. We know he has no scruples, 
for the man who warned us un- 
doubtedly was killed. And I’m con- 
vinced those extremely short wave 
bands hold the secret. Let’s knock 
off for the day. We look like 
ghosts. To-morrow morning you and 
June get what equipment you need 
from across the river. I’ll stay here 
on guard. You’d better raid a drug- 
store and get some more of our 
life-saver, too. It’s listed under 
Cannibis Indica.” 



T he next morning dawned 
clear and cold. It was early 
October and there was a chill in 
the apartment. Baron swung his 
legs over the. edge of the davenport 
in the living room and stared out 
at the frost-covered trees of Cen- 
tral Park. The leaves were falling 
before the brisk wind and forming 
little eddying mounds over the 
forms of those lying about the 
streets. Jack shivered at the thought 
of the millions and millions of vic- 
tims of the disaster who littered 
the Earth. They seemed to accuse 
him of still being alive. Well, if 
Manthis was right, perhaps all 
could be revived before winter set 
in. 

June was singing as he and the 
doctor came to breakfast. Appar- 
ently she wished to forget the 
events of the previous night, so 
they laughed and joked as though 
they intended to go on a picnic 
rather than across a dead city. 

The hotel lobby was as they last 
had seen it when they descended. 
The bellboys still nodded on their 
benches. A traveling salesman was 
bunched over a week-old Times as 
if he would awake in a few min- 
utes, glance about guiltily and re- 
sume his reading. The child they 
had rescued still lay on the divan. 
Her golden hair framed her cheeks 
like a halo. One arm was thrown 
above her head. She seemed ready 
to awake, though she had not 
breathed for days. 

“It all makes me feel so lonely,” 
whispered June, clinging to the en- 
gineer’s arm. “I want to cry — or 
whistle to keep up my courage.” 
“Don’t worry,” Jack replied soft- 
ly, patting her hand and speaking 
with more assurance than he felt. 
“We’ll find a way out.” 

She squeezed his arm and smiled 
at him with new courage. For 
months, in fact ever since his first 
visit to the Manthis apartment, 
Baron had admired the doctor’s 



72 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



charming daughter. Although noth- 
ing had been said of love between 
them they often had gone to a 
dance or the theater together, while 
a firm friendship had been cement- 
ed. Now their closer association 
and the unflinching bravery which 
she showed was ripening this into 
a stronger bond. 

T hey went out into the crisp 
morning, stepped across the 
body of a street sweeper who lay 
in the gutter, and entered the doc- 
tor’s automobile. Through the 
silent city they drove, Baron watch- 
ing carefully to avoid striking 
stalled cars or grotesquely sprawl- 
ing bodies. 

There was a tangle of wrecked 
automobiles in the center of the 
Queensboro Bridge and they were 
forced to push them apart to get 
through. While they were engaged 
in this arduous work, a drifting 
ferry bumped into a pier, shaking 
the dreaming captain into a sem- 
blance of life at the wheel. 

‘T used to like fairy tales,” 
moaned June. “They’re dreadful, 
really.” 

She clung to him like a fright- 
ened child. He drew her close and 
kissed her. 

“I love you, June,” he whispered. 
Sis though fearful that the sleep- 
ing drivers of the tangled cars 
might overhear. “Don’t be afraid.” 
“I’m not — now,” she smiled 
through eyes filled with tears. 
“I’ve loved you for months. Jack. 
Whatever happens, we have each 
other.” 

He helped her back into the car 
and drove on in silence. At last 
the Rothafel plant gloomed before 
them, forbidding as an Egyptian 
tomb. With a feeling that he was 
entering some forbidden precinct. 
Jack led the way to his office. 
Somehow, without its usual bustle 
and bright lights, it seemed alien. 
Once inside he forgot his hesita- 



tion and set about collecting equip- 
ment — queerly shaped neon tubes, 
reflectors, coils, electrodes. Soon 
there was a pile of material glint- 
ing on top of his desk. 

They were exploring a deep cab- 
inet with the aid of a flashlight 
when ,a strange clicking sound 
made them whirl simultaneously. 
In a corner of the room a deeper 
blot of shadow caught their eyes. 
Jack snapped on the flash. In the 
small circle of light a long, cadav- 
erous face appeared. Thin lips 
were drawn back over wide-spaced 
yellow teeth. Black eyes stared un- 
winkingly into the light. The flash 
wavered as the engineer tried to 
get his nerves under control. 

“It’s nothing,” he assured the 
trembling girl. “A night -watchman 
caught as he was making his 
rounds, probably. Don’t get excit- 
ed.” He wet his lips. 

“He’s alive!” screamed June. 
“The eyelids! They moved!” 

ES, I’m alive,” boomed a 
hoarse voice. “I thought I 
was the only man God had spared. 
Pardon me for frightening you. I 
was so thunderstruck. . . .” 

The stranger stepped forward. 
He was dressed in a long black 
topcoat, high collar and string tie. 
The clicking noise was explained 
when he rubbed his long white 
hands together, making the 
knuckles pop like tiny firecrackers. 

“Ivan Solinski, at your service.” 
He smiled with what evidently was 
intended to be warmth, again show- 
ing those rows of teeth like picket 
fences. “I suppose we’re all here on 
the same mission: to find a solution 
for the mystery of the world’s 
paralysis.” The apparition lit a 
long and bloated cigarette and 
through the acrid smoke surveyed 
them quizzically. 

“I’m Jack Baron, formerly on the 
staff here, and this is June Man- 
this, daughter of Dr. Frank Man- 




THE END OF TIME 



73 



this, head of the chemical research 
department.” The engineer winced 
as Solinski enfolded his hand in a 
clammy grip. 

“Ah yes, I know the doctor by 
hearsay. A great scientist. He has 
a lovely daughter” — ^bowing deeply 
to June as he let his beady eyes 
wander over her face and figure. 
“Perhaps we can join forces, al- 
though I must admit I have aban- 
doned hope. It is God’s will.” He 
rolled his eyes toward heaven, then 
riveted them once more upon June. 

“Why, certainly.” Jack was striv- 
ing to overcome his growing dis- 
like. “We’ll be driving back in a 
few minutes. Would you care to 
come with us?” 

“No.” The pupilless eyes skit- 
tered toward Baron for a moment. 
“I know the doctor’s address. I will 
come to visit you soon. Now I must 
be going.” Solinski turned as if to 
depart, then strode to the desk and 
looked down at the mass of equip- 
ment. “Ah, super-short wave tubes, 
I see. Very clever.” His dexterous 
fingers lingered over them a mo- 
ment. Then he bowed and was gone. 

T he two remained staring at 
the empty doorway. 

“I — I wish he’d been dead — 
sleeping,” whispered June at last, 
twisting her handkerchief with 
trembling fingers. “He — I didn’t 
like the way he kept looking at 
me. 

“He seemed all right to me.” 
Jack tried to forget his own preju- 
dice. “He’s willing to help us.” 
“Might he not be one of the 
hashish addicts? Those eyes — ^the 
pupils were mere pinpoints — ^and 
those evil-smelling cigarettes.” 
“Then why should he have of- 
fered to help?” puzzled Jack. “He 
could have killed us.” 

“Nevertheless I hope we’ve seen 
the last of him. Are you about 
through? Let’s get out of this awful 
place. He looked like a mummy!” 



They drove back to the apart- 
ment so completely preoccupied 
that both forgot to obtain the drug 
which the doctor had requested. 

“Yes, I’ve heard of him,” Manthis 
said after he had been informed of 
the encounter. “A naturalized Rus- 
sian. Used to do quite a bit of 
valuable work in various fields of 
physics. But he was some sort of 
radical — seems to me an old-fash- 
ioned anarchist — and not popular. 
He dropped out of sight several 
years ago. I presumed he was dead.” 
They soon had the new equip- 
ment installed and again began 
exploring the wave bands, begin- 
ning with the comparatively 
lengthy ones and working down 
into those only slightly longer than 
light. It was tedious work, but all 
were by now as adept as Jack in 
combing the ether and their task 
progressed rapidly. Despite the 
labor, however, nothing could be 
heard. There was only the univer- 
sal, breathless silence. At times 
they moved to the commercial 
bands and tried to pick up the 
stations they had heard on the 
previous day, but even there they 
met with failure. 

B y the evening of the third day 
they had left the wave bands 
which could be measured in meters 
and were exploring those strange 
and almost v/holly uncharted 
depths of the ether which must be 
calculated in centimeters. There at 
last luck favored them. It was Jack 
who caught a strange pulsating 
tone on the three-centimeter band. 
It rose and fell, rose and fell, then 
died away like the keening of a 
lost soul. 

“Listen,” he whispered. “Plug in 
here. I’ve found something.” 

June and the doctor followed his 
instructions. Delicately fingering 
the coils, Baron picked up the 
sound again, only to lose it. Then 
it came once more. This time he 



74 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OP SUPER-SCIENCE 



followed it as it changed to the 
five centimeter band. Back and 
forth it went as though weaving 
an intricate and devilish web. 

“What do you make of it?” 
queried the doctor at last. 

“Don’t know.” Jack bit his lips. 
“It’s no natural phenomenon, I’ll 
swear. Somebody is manipulating a 
broadcasting station of terrific 
power not far from here and play- 
ing with that wave as a helmsman 
brings a sailing ship into the wind 
and lets her pay off again.” 

“What do we do now?” The lit- 
tle chemist, finding his theory ap- 
parently confirmed, was at a loss. 
“Could we wreck that station?” 
“Fat chance!” The engineer 
laughed bitterly as he reached for 
a cigarette. “Whoever has con- 
ceived that bit of hellishness is 
well guarded. The three of us 
wouldn’t have a ghost of a show. 
What I can’t understand is — ” 

“No use talking about theories 
now.” Manthis sat down, crushed. 
Dropping his head in his hands, he 
pulled his few hairs as though that 
might drag out an idea. “What’s to 
be done? Do you realize that we 
hold more responsibility than ever 
man has held before? Caesar! Napo- 
leon! They were pikers. We have to 
save a world.” 

S ILENCE greeted his outburst. 

The scratching of a match as 
June lit a cigarette sounded like 
an explosion. Then the smoke ed- 
died undisturbed while the three 
stared vacantly into space, trying 
to think. 

“Couldn’t we” — the girl swal- 
lowed hesitantly as she realized her 
ignorance of radio engineering — 
“couldn’t we interfere with that 
wave? Interfere with the wave 
which already is breaking up the 
thought waves. Cancel its power. 
Oh, Jack, you must know *what I 
mean.” 

“With this dinky five-kilowatt 



station? We couldn’t reach Yonkers 
against the power they’ve got. By 
Jove!” He leaped to his feet as a 
new thought struck him. “Maybe 
we could just wake up New York. 
Get help from the police then! 
Smash that other station after- 
wards !” 

“But we don’t know whether in- 
terference would break the spell,” 
interposed the practical doctor. 
“And it will take a lot of prac- 
tise to follow that wave. It jumps 
back and forth like a grasshopper.” 

“And if we don’t do it right the 
first time, whoever is operating that 
station will be down on us like a 
ton of brick,” admitted Jack. 

“Let’s get the child we saved,” 
suggested June, “We can bring 
her up here. Then we’ll need only 
a little power, just enough to be 
effective in this room, to bring her 
to life if we can. They wouldn’t 
hear our wave.” 

“Great!” Jack bent over and 
kissed her. “You’re a real help. I’ll 
be back in>.a minute.” He dashed 
out. Soon they heard his step on 
the stairs and he reappeared, ten- 
derly bearing his golden-haired bur- 
den. 

“Now, June,” he commanded 
briskly, “place her in a comfortable 
position on the work table while I 
get ready.” He began arranging 
equipment and connecting it with 
the bank of storage batteries. 

“Shall I adjust a headset for 
her?” asked the impatient doctor. 

“Be yourself!” Jack placed a 
crooked vacuum tube near the 
child’s head and clamped two flat 
electrodes on her temples. “This 
wave must act directly on the brain. 
The sense of hearing has nothing 
to do with it. 

“All right. Sleeping Beauty.” 
He stretched the kinks out of his 
aching back. “Let’s see what we 
can do for you. Pardon me. Doctor, 
if I seemed rude. This is ticklish 
work. Pick up the outside wave for 



THE END OF TIME 



75 



me. Thanks. Now I’ve got our 
dinky sending station set on the 
same wave length at a different 
frequency. It’s adjusted so that as 
I keep in touch through this tun- 
ing coil, our wave will fluctuate 
over the same path as the other. It 
should take six or eight hours to 
overcome the effect on her, I judge. 
Here we go. June, you’d better get 
yourself and your dad some food. 
Doctor, you examine the kid from 
time to time. In an hour or so June 
can relieve me.” 

He pressed a switch. The tubes 
filled with a green glovv. 

T WO hours passed, and the sun 
was sinking behind the trees 
of the park in a bloody haze when 
Jack at last signaled for June to 
handle the dials. For a time he 
guided her slim fingers. Then, as 
she caught the trick, he rose and 
stretched his cramped muscles. 

“Don’t lose the wave for a mo- 
ment or we’ll have to start all over 
again,” he warned. “Now for din- 
ner !” 

"She nodded and, frowning slight- 
ly, bent over the dials. 

At that moment there came a 
heavy knock on the apartment 
door. 

“Who’s that?” gasped Manthis, 
his face turning grey. 

“Probably Solinski,” replied Jack, 
feeling his spine crawl as he re- 
membered the moldy Russian. “Fine 
time he chose for a visit.” 

“Shall I let him in?” 

“Don’t see what else there is to 
do.” 

“Good evening,” cried their 
guest as Manthis opened the door. 
“Ah, Dr. Manthis, I believe. I have 
heard so much about your work.” 
His hoarse yet ringing voice made 
the little man start violently and 
caused June to shake her head in 
annoyance as the sound interfered 
with the humming of the vagrant 
wave. “Sorry I could not come 



earlier.” Solinski advanced into the 
laboratory, giving the effect of driv- 
ing the chemist before him. “Try- 
ing to revive one of the sufferers, I 
see. May God aid you in this noble 
work.” 

H e spread the tails of his long 
coat and sat down. As he 
talked his eyes flashed about the 
room, taking in every detail and 
at last fastening on June’s fresh 
beauty like those of a vampire. 
“Not,” he boomed as he lighted a 
cigarette, “not that I believe it 
possible — ” 

Catching an agonized glance from 
June, Jack interrupted: 

“You’ll have to speak softly, sir. 
This is ticklish work.” 

“I beg your pardon.” The Rus- 
sian lowered his voice so that it 
squeaked piercingly like a rusty 
hinge. He wrung his hands aud- 
ibly. 

“Perhaps we’d better move into 
the living room,” suggested the 
doctor, hovering in the background. 
“There we can talk without inter- 
rupting.” 

Their guest unfolded joint by 
joint like a collapsible rule. 

“Of course, if you think I’m spy- 
ing,” he grated. 

“Not at all,” protested Jack, al- 
though he longed to strike the brute 
across thre face. “It’s just that voices 
of certain pitches interfere. Surely 
you have seen radio operators go 
all to pieces when spoken to.” 
Ungraciously Solinski allowed 
himself to be ushered into the out- 
er room. Once there he disposed 
his lean form on another chair, 
unctuously refused a highball, and, 
forgetting his momentary anger, 
soon was deep in a scientific dis- 
cussion of the problems involved 
in revivifying the world. 

He mentioned the nearby radio 
station but declared that he had 
been unable to locate it despite a 
careful search. Dismissing this he 



76 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



turned to other topics, displaying 
a vast knowledge o£ all depart- 
ments of scientific achievement 
and, despite his depressing person- 
ality, holding his hearer’s atten- 
tion so closely they forgot the pas- 
sage of time until the clock struck 
ten. 

“Time for daily injection,” said 
the doctor. “Do you use Andrev’s 
solution too, sir?” 

“Naturally,” replied the other, 
lighting one cigarette from the butt 
of another. 

Manthis hurried into the labora- 
tory. A few moments later he re- 
appeared in the doorway and called 
to Jack in an agitated voice. As 
the younger man joined him he 
closed the door and turned a white 
face to him. 

“The drug is almost gone.” Man- 
this said. “Didn’t you obtain a new 
supply?” 

TE — I forgot it,” admitted 

V V Jack, feeling his own face 
grow pale. “The shock of running 
across Solinski at the laboratory 
upset me.” 

“Well, that’s all right, then. It 
gave me a turn, but we have plenty 
of time.” The doctor laughed shak- 
ily. “Run down to the nearest drug 
store. There should be a supply 
there. Better take a flashlight.” 

He pushed open the door, then 
shrank back. Leaning against the 
jamb was the Russian. His manner 
had changed subtly. His thin lips 
spread from ear to ear in a wolfish 
grin. His fingers clicked like cas- 
tanets. 

“Ah,” he purred. “So you have 
used up the last of your solution?” 

“What’s that to you?” The doc- 
tor was gripped by cold unreason- 
ing fear. 

“Only that you will be unable to 
obtain more. Since my first meet- 
ing with your daughter I have had 
my men collect all the Cannibis 
Indica in the city.” 



“Your men!” Manthis was thun- 
derstruck. 

“Certainly, you old fool. Do you 
think I’m a bungling theorist like 
yourself? Who do you think is 
operating that short-wave station? 
I am. Who do you think put the 
world to sleep? I did. Who do you 
think will wake it? I will.” 

Solinski’s figure appeared to ex- 
pand. He took deep drafts from his 
cigarette. The smoke seemed to im- 
pell some terrific force into his 
gaunt frame. 

“So it was your voice I heard!” 
cried Manthis bitterly. “And those 
awful tales about you were true. 
A hashish smoker! A person whose 
mind is rotting, in control of the 
world!” He seemed about to leap 
at the other, and his chubby figure, 
in that attitude, would have seemed 
ludicrous if it had not been tragic. 
“It shall not be!” he shouted. 

“Now see here. Doctor” — Solinski 
assumed a friendly tone — ^“you’re 
making a grave mistake. I have 
something to offer better than you 
ever dreamed of.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Just this. How would you like to 
be assistant to the King of the 
World?” 

“/^RAZY already,” sneered the 
doctor, squinting up at his 
tormentor. 

“Crazy or not, when the world 
awakes I will be its king.” 

“Why, damn you, I thought you 
were an anarchist and wanted to 
do away with kings and govern- 
ments,” sputtered the little man. 

Solinski burst into a gale of fiend- 
ish laughter. 

“An anarchist is merely a capital- 
ist without money or power,” he 
quoted. 

“What do you want of us?” de- 
manded Manthis, playing for time. 

“Very simple. This: I intend soon 
to begin awakening those who will 
serve me, first in New York and 



THE END OF TIME 



77 



then throughout the world. When 
I have a skeleton government built 
up, I will withdraw the wave and 
allow the people to revive. Clever, 
isn’t it? Especially for such a mad- 
man as you think me.” He, snapped 
his fingers and leered cunningly at 
them. 

The doctor choked but Jack’s 
hand on his arm steadied him. 

“You have a very beautiful 
daughter,” resumed their diabolical 
visitant. 

“Leave my daughter’s name out of 
this,” cried Manthis, recoiling. 

“Not at all. Her charm and ability 
have greatly impressed me — so im- 
pressed me that I have decided to 
make her my queen.” 

“You scum of the gutter. You 
filthy beast. I’d die before I’d be 
a party to such a thing!” The doc- 
tor was beside himself. 

“I consider myself justified,” re- 
plied the ether, taking great de- 
light in baiting his foe. “The world 
was never able to govern itself. 
We anarchists have bided our time, 
although overshadowed by com- 
munists, Fascists and such ridicu- 
lous experimenters. Now comes our 
turn. I shall be the viceroy of God. 
Under my rule and that of Queen 
June the world shall become a sec- 
ond heaven.” 

He rolled his eyes upward at 
those words. As he did so. Jack, 
who had been awaiting just such 
an opportunity, struck him on the 
jaw. 

T he blow would have felled an 
ox but Solinski merely stag- 
gered back a step and snarled. Be- 
fore Baron could renew the attack 
he jerked an automatic from be- 
neath his coat and leaped to the 
hall door. 

“You I shall kill,” he grinned 
evilly. “But not now. First you 
must taste the horror of sinking 
into the long sleep. You have no 
more drug, nor can you obtain 



any. Those pitiful storage batteries 
will be exhausted by the time you 
have aroused the child. So you must 
sleep unless you have the courage 
to kill yourself. Doctor, I deeply 
regret that this has occurred, but 
you see that I must let you and 
June sleep too. When I have need 
of you I will recall you. That is 
all. Farewell. May God pity you, 
Baron. I will not.” 

He sprang through the door and, 
the tails of his black coat flapping 
like the wings of a gigantic bat, 
vanished down the stairs. 

Manthis slammed the door and 
locked it, then leaned weakly 
against the panels and wiped his 
round face. His hands shook piti- 
fully. 

“This then is the end,” he whis- 
pered hoarsely. 

“Is there none of the drug 
left?” Jack shook him out of his 
lethargy. 

“Enough for a half portion for 
all of us,” sighed the doctor. “But 
what use of that? Better we pois- 
oned ourselves now and escaped 
that demon.” 

“Nonsense. A half portion means 
twelve hours of life. In that time 
I can rig up the big transmitter. 
Perhaps there is still time to revive 
New York. Solinski won’t know 
we have a generator until we turn 
on the power. Quick. Poor June 
must be nearly frightened to death 
at our shouting.” 

B ut they found the girl sitting 
tense and jubilant at the con- 
trols. 

“Father! Jack!” she cried as the 
door opened. “It’s working. I saw 
her move. That means we may be 
able to revive the world!” Her face 
was streaked with tears. 

“Her heart’s beating,” whispered 
the doctor, feeling the child’s pulse. 
“Slow but steady. She’ll regain con- 
sciousness any moment now.” 

“No time to wait.” Disregarding 



78 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



June’s cry o£ protest Jack stripped 
off the electrodes, “We must get 
the big machine working.” 

“But the little thing will die 
again,” cried June, throwing her- 
self on her knees beside the tot. “I 
didn’t think you could be so cruel,” 
“Solinski has cut off our drug 
supply,” explained Msitthis gently. 
“He’s operating the other station. 
Don’t blame Tack. We must work 
fast.” 

“You mean that Russian is re- 
sponsible for all this?” 

“Yes, child. But maybe we can 
defeat him yet. Don’t lose courage. 
Now I must go and prepare what’s 
left of the drug. We’re overdue 
for it now.” 

Meanwhile Jack was busy run- 
ning leads from the generator room, 
connecting banks of tubes, string- 
ing an aerial on the terrace. 

“Twelve hours! Twelve hours!” 
he muttered. “Just time to make it 
if the doctor’s calculations are cor- 
rect. June, hand me those pliers, but 
be careful of the wires. I haven’t 
time to insulate them. When we 
start the dynamo they’ll be carry- 
ing twelve thousand volts.” 

“But won’t Solinski and his men 
come back and kill us?” For the 
first time the full weight of despair 
descended upon her brave spirit. 

“Probably. Does your father have 
a revolver?” 

“I— I think so.” 

“Find out.” Jack connected a 
loading coil with deft fingers. 
“Then go down to a sporting goods 
store and get some ammunition. If 
there are any shotguns in the place 
bring two back with plenty of buck- 
shot shells. I don’t think we’re be- 
ing watched yet, but if you’re at- 
tacked, run for it.” 

Noting she looked hurt at his 
abruptness, he kissed her quickly. 

“Sorry, darling. Every second 
counts. Run along, like a good girl,” 
She smiled for the first time in 
a long while and patted his hand. 



W HEN she returned, two 
shotguns and several boxes 
of shells held like wood in her bent 
arms, the generator was sparkling 
merrily. The gasoline engine barked 
steadily and the vacuum tubes 
glowed green. 

Manthis came in at that moment 
and injected all the remaining drug 
as Jack gave crisp orders. Auto- 
matically the engineer had taken 
command. 

“I’ll get things going and han- 
dle the dials until Solinski sends 
his rats down on us. June, you 
watch the. street door. Run up at 
the first sign of an attack. After 
that you’ll take my place and hold 
it, no matter what happens, until 
we succeed or are killed. The doc- 
tor and I will go downstairs when 
you come up, and hold them off or 
retreat slowly. Thank heaven we 
can command both the front and 
rear stairways from the halls. Now 
doctor, watch the circuit breaker. 
I’m going to throw on full power,” 
As he advanced the rheostat the 
tubes glowed brighter, bathing the 
room in unearthly light. Jack ad- 
justed his headset and smiled up 
at June. She kissed him bravely 
before hurrying to her dangerous 
post. 

Once more he sat listening to 
that whining, fluctuating wave. The 
engineer’s thoughts wavered be- 
tween speculations on the future, 
fond memories of June and impa- 
tience with the dragging hours. 
Would nothing ever happen? 
Through the earphones now came 
a jangling, agonized whine, as if 
the two antagonistic waves were 
endowed with life and actually 
struggling in the ether. 

From time to time his glance 
wandered to the child, who, hav- 
ing obtained a head start through 
her preliminary treatment, now was 
stirring fretfully. 

Slowly the time plodded by. Jack 
smoked cigarette after cigarette in 



THE END OF TIME 



79 



an effort to fight off the drowsiness 
which loaded his eyelids with lead. 

It must have been three o’clock 
when a whimper from the divan 
apprised them that the child at last 
had awakened. 

“Where’s mama?’’ She blinked 
into the glare. “I’ve lost my mama.” 

“There, there, honey,” soothed 
the doctor, stopping his pacing up 
and down the room and picking her 
up. “Y our mama had to go away 
for awhile. She’ll be back any min- 
ute. Let’s go find a drink of water. 
And I’ve something for you to play 
with too.” Gently he carried her 
into June’s bedroom. 

Soon he reappeared and patted 
Jack on the shoulder. 

“Our first victory,” he said in a 
broken voice.” She’s in perfect con- 
dition and sleeping naturally now. 
I gave her one of June’s old dolls 
to play with.” He sighed and col- 
lapsed into the nearest chair. “I’m 
almost dead with the strain of it. 
Do you think there’s a chance?” 

“Three more hours should turn 
the trick. I don’t understand why 
Solinski — 

The crash of a shotgun, coming 
faint but clear from the street be- 
low, brought him up short. The 
shot was answered by a volley of 
rifle fire. 

J ACK almost lost the wave in 
his excitement, but regained it 
with a desperate twist of the wrist. 
No time for nerves now. He must 
be calm! 

“Go down and hold them until 
June can get back to relieve me,” 
he ordered. “Hurry. They may rush 
her any moment.” 

The doctor seemed ten years 
younger as he thrust a revolver 
into his pocket, snatched a shot- 
gun from behind the door and ran 
out. 

The commotion had awakened the 
child, who started whimpering, add- 
ing further to Jack’s distractions. 



Yet he managed, in spite of ghastly 
mental pictures of June being torn 
to pieces by her attackers, to keep 
his hands steady. 

A few minutes later she slipped 
into the room and laid her cold 
cheek against his before taking her 
place at the instruments. 

“It’s all right,” she added. “1 
don’t think they’ll attack in the 
dark. There are five of them. I’m 
sure I wounded or killed one. They 
weren’t expecting a guard. I left 
the gun with father. He’s behind 
the cashier’s desk.” Then, all her 
courage evaporating, she turned 
an appealing, little girl face to- 
ward her lover. “Don’t let yourself 
be killed. Jack. I’d die too.” 

“June, you’re wonderful,” he 
whispered. “I didn’t know there 
was a girl alive as brave as you. 
Good-by. No matter what happens, 
keep the wave in tune.” He kissed 
her tenderly, trying not to think he 
had done so for the last time, and 
hurried out. 

The stairs were black as the in- 
side of a tomb. Once he stumbled 
over the body of a charwoman and 
came near falling headlong. 

“Nothing’s happened since that 
first volley,” whispered Manthis 
when Jack slipped into the cage. 
“They’re holding off for dawn. 
Look!” his voice wavered. “Was 
that a face at the window?” He 
fired wildly. Glass tinkled. 

“Easy,” warned Baron. “Don’t 
waste ammunition. Besides, if you 
get this place full of smoke they’ll 
jump us.” 

D awn was painting the win- 
dows gray when the assault 
began. Their first warning came 
when a small object was tossed into 
the lobby. It exploded in a cloud 
of white vapor. 

“Tear gas,” yelled Jack. “Back 
to the stairs.” They ran for cover, 
weeping and choking. 

Then began a slow retreat up the 



80 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



stairways. Jack guarding the front 
and Manthis the back passages. At 
first it was a simple matter for 
their enemies to toss tear bombs 
through the fire doors, then, pro- 
tected by respirators, capture an- 
other floor. But as the light in- 
creased this became more and more 
hazardous. Twice a spray of buck- 
shot laid a Solinski man low. 

“He hasn’t many men available,” 
called Jack as the attack slackened. 
“But watch out. His time’s about 
up. Hey, look at that woman!” A 
white-uniformed maid, whom he re- 
membered having seen lying in the 
same spot every time he climbecL 
the stairs, had stirred weakly, ^ 
though about to wake. 

It was their glance at the sleep- 
ing form which undid them. When 
they looked up both fire doors were 
open and helmeted figures were 
emerging from them. 

The shotguns roared. Two of 
their attackers collapsed, but the 
others came on. Before there was 
time for another shot they were 
at close quarters. Standing back to 
back, Manthis and Jack clubbed 
their guns and held their ground. 

The fact that Solinski and his 
men wore respirators handicapped 
them immensely, so that the two 
defenders kept a cleared circle 
about them. 

One of the attackers, more dar- 
ing than the rest, leaped forward to 
engage the engineer. He collapsed 
with a crushed skull. 

Then, when victory seemed in 
their grasp, luck turned. At Jack’s 
next blow the stock of his weapon 
parted from the barrel, leaving him 
almost defenseless. At the same 
time Manthis slipped and col- 
lapsed from a knife thrust. 

J ACK was left alone to face three 
enemies and would have been 
killed within the minute had not 
Solinski, recalling the little time 
he had left to stop the interfering 



wave, deserted his comrades and 
sprinted for the laboratory. 

The seeming defection of their 
chief threw the other two attack- 
ers into momentary confusion. Be- 
fore they could recover. Jack 
knocked one out with the gun bar- 
rel, then made a flying tackle at 
the other. 

But he had caught a tartar. His 
remaining enemy was a gigantic 
Negro. Recovering from his sur- 
prise the latter lifted high a glit- 
tering knife to finish his disarmed 
foe. Jack snatched at the uplifted 
arm — missed ! 

A revolver cracked. The hooded 
Negro staggered, then crashed for- 
ward. 

“Remembered my pistol just in 
time,” gasped the doctor from the 
floor. “Don’t bother about me. I’m 
all right. Stop Solinski, for God’s 
sake.” 

Although his lungs seemed burst- 
ing Baron turned and flew up the 
stairs. Being familiar with every 
turn, he gained on the Russian and 
caught sight of the dreadful black 
coat-tails as his enemy burst 
through to the twentieth floor. The 
locked dopr of the apartment baffled 
him only a moment. Stepping back, 
Solinski hurled his giant frame 
against the panels. They splintered 
and crashed inward. But the delay 
allowed Jack to catch up. 

He leaped on the Russian’s back. 
Locked together they reeled into 
the living room. For a fleeting 
moment Jack saw June sitting 
rigidly at the instruments. Her 
eyes were starting from their sock- 
ets but her hands were steady. 

“I warned you to kill yourself,” 
Solinski’s voice rose in a scream- 
ing whisper through the respirator; 
“Now I will do it.” Displaying the 
strength of madness he hurled Jack 
from him. Losing all control of his 
limbs, the younger man flew across 
the room and demolished the divan 
in his fall. But the thought of what 



THE END OF TIME 



81 



t- 

Solinski would do to June brought 
him back to the attack. 

T he fury of their struggle 
wrecked the living room. Both 
bled from numerous wounds. One 
of the Russian’s bleak eyes closed 
under a well-directed blow, but 
otherwise he seemed unaffected. 
Jack grappled again and realized 
his mistake as he was caught in a 
bone-cracking grip and forced into 
the laboratory. 

Baron felt a rib snap. A sweat 
of agony broke out over his body. 
Holding his enemy helpless the 
invader worked his way toward the 
work table. They bumped against 
it, making the equipment totter 
perilously. Solinski released his 
grip, snatched a bottle of distilled 
water and swung. 

Jack felt his head explode. The 
room went dark. But in his semi- 
consciousness he remembered he 
must not let the Russian reach that 
switch. As he slid slowly to the 
floor he grasped the other’s legs. 

The drug fiend tried to kick free, 
stumbled, struck the table with his 
hips. Throwing out his arms to 
regain his balance he plunged one 
hand among the naked cables which 
led from the generator to the trans- 
formers and tubes. 

A blinding flash of light and the 
scream of a soul in torment fol- 



lowed. As a nauseating odor of 
burning flesh filled the room, the 
Russian v/as hurled backward like 
a ru’ober ball. He struck the win- 
dow which overlooked the park, 
crashed through the large panel and 
fell! 

June sat as though hypnotized, 
forcing herself to manipulate those 
dials. 

Jack crawled to the window and 
watched the black body swoop 
downward like a wounded bird, 
the coat flapping like crippled 
wings. After what seemed an eon 
it struck the edge of the subway 
kiosk, bounced like a rag doll and 
sprawled across the pavement. 

Still Jack did not move. Through 
a haze of his own blood he stared, 
the fate of his enemy forgotten. 
All about the kiosk bodies which 
had laid so still for the past week 
were moving. The little figures, 
not much larger than ants from 
that height, yawned, sat up and 
stretched as though it was the com- 
monest thing in the world to take 
a nap in the. midst of Fifth Avenue. 
It was as if the last swoop of that 
batlike figure had returned them to 
consciousness. 

“The world is alive! The world 
is alive!” Baron croaked wildly as 
he felt his senses slipping from 
him. “We have won, June! We 
have won!” 



Statement of the ownership, management, circulation, etc., required Py the Act of Congress of August 24, 1012, 
of AstoundlngStorles, published bi-monthly at New York, N. Y ., for Oct. 1, 1932. State of New York, County of New 
York, ss. Befh^waae. a Notary Public In and for the State and county aforesaid, personally appeared Edwin F. Borden, 
who, having been duly sworn according to law. depose and says that he is the Business Manager of the Astounding 
Stories and that the following Is. to the best of his knowledge and belief, a true statement of the ownership, management 
(and if a daily paper, the circulation), etc., of the aforesaid publication for the date shown in the above caption, required 
by the Act of August 24, 1912, embodied In section 411, Postal Laws and Regulations, printed on the reverse of this 
form, to wit; 1. That the names and addresses of the publisher, editor, managing editor, and business managers are: 
Publisher. W. M. Clayton, 155 E. 44th St.. New York, N. Y.; Editor, Harry Bates. 155 E. 44th St.. New York, N. Y.j 
Managing Editor, None; Business Manager, Edwin F. Borden, 165 E. 44th St., New York, N. Y. 2. That the owner 
Is: (If owned by a corporation. Its name and address must be stated and also Immediately thOTeunder the names and 
addr^ses of stockholders owning or holding one per cent or more of total amount of stock. If not owned by a corpora- 
tion, the names and addresses of the indiwdual owners must be given. If owned by a firm, company, or other unin- 
corporated concern, its name and address, as well as those of each individual member, must be given.) The Clayton 
Magazines, Inc., 155 E. 44th St., New York, N. Y.. W. M. Clayton, 155 E. 44th St., New York, N. Y., Nathan 
Goldmann, 80 Lafayette St. , New York, N. Y. 3. That the known bondholders, mortgagees, and other sfecurlty holders 
owning or holding 1 per cent or more of total amount of bonds, mortgages, or othw securities w’e: (If there are none, 
eo state.) None. 4. That the two paragraphs next above, giving the names of the owners, stockholders, and security 
holders, 11 any, contain not only the list of stockholders and security holders as they >ppear upon the books of the com- 
pany but also, in cases where the stockholder or security holder appears upon the books of the company as trustee or in 
any otherflduclary relation, the name of the person or corporation for whom such trustee is acting, Is given; also that the 
said two paragraphs contain statements embracing af&ant’s full knowledge and belief as to the circumstances and condi- 
tions under which stockholders and security holders who do not appear upon the books of the company as trustees, hold 
stock and securities In a capacity other thtui that of a bona fide owner; and this afflant has no reason to believe that any 
other person, association, or corporation has any Interest direct or Indirect in the said stock, bonds, or other 'securities 
than as so stated by him. Edwin F. Borden. Buslnem Manager. Sworn to and subscribed before me this 2Ist day of 
September, 1932. EugeneQA.Boaal. (My commission expires March 30, 1033.) 



The Death-Traps of FX-31 

A Commander John Hanson Adventure 

By Sewell Peaslee Wright 



I DO not wish to appear preju- 
diced against scientists. I am 
not prejudiced, but I have ob- 
served the scientific mind in 
action, on a great many occasions, 
and I find it rather incomprehen- 
sible. 

It is true that there are men with 
a scientific turn of mind who, at 
the same time, you can feel safe to 
stand with shoulder to shoulder, in 
an emergency. Young Hendricks, 
who was my junior officer on the 
Ertak, back in those early days of 
the Special Patrol Service, about 
which I have written so much, 
was one of these. 

Nor, now that 
I come to think 
of the matter in 
the cool and 
impartial manner 
which is typical of me, was young 
Hendricks the only one. There was 
a chap — let’s see, now. I remember 
his face very well; he was one of 
those dark, wiry, alert men, a na- 
tive of Earth, and his name was — 
Inverness! Carlos Inverness, Old 
John Hanson’s memory isn’t quite 
as tricky as some of these smart 
young officers of the Service, so 
newly commissioned that the silver 
braid is not yet fitted to the curve 
of their sleeves, would lead one to 
believe. 

I met Inverness in the ante-room 
of the Chief of Command, The 
Chief was tied up in one of the 



long-winded meetings which the 
Silver-sleeves devoted largely to the 
making of new rules and regula- 
tions for the confusion of both men 
and officers of the Service, but he 
came out long enough to give me 
the Ertak’s orders in person. 

“Glad to see you here at Base 
again. Commander,” he said, in his 
crisp, business-like way. “Hear some 
good reports of your work; keep 
it up!” 

“Thank you, sir,” I said, wonder- 
ing what was in the air. Any time 
the Chief was complimentary, it was 
well to look out for squalls — which is 
an old Earth term 
for unexpected 
trouble. 

“Not at all. 
Commander, not 
at all. And now, 
let me present Carlos Inverness, 
the scientist, of whom you have 
undoubtedly heard.” 

I bowed and said nothing, but we 
shook hands after the fashion of 
Earth, and Inverness smiled quite 
humanly. 

“I imagine the good captain has 
been too busy to follow the activi- 
ties of such as myself,” he said, 
sensibly enough. 

“A commander” — and I laid 
enough emphasis on the title to 
point out to him his error in ter- 
minology — “in the Special Patrol 
Service usually finds plenty to oc- 
cupy his mind,” I commented, 



Commander John Hanson recalls 
his harrowing expedition among 
the giant spiders of FX-31. 




wondering more than ever what was 
up. 

“True,” said the Chief brisky. 
“You’ll pardon me if I’m exceeding- 
ly brief, Commander, but there’s a 
sizeable group in there waiting my 
return. 

‘T have a special mission for you; 
a welcome relief from routine pa- 
trol. I believe you have made spe- 
cial requests, in the past, for as- 
signments other than the routine 
work of the Service, Commander?” 

He was boxing me up in a cor- 
ner, and I knew it, but I couldn’t 



deny what he said, so I admitted 
it as gracefully as I could. 

“Very well,” nodded the Chief, 
and it seemed to me his eyes 
twinkled for an instant. “Inverness, 
here, is head of a party of scien^ 
tists bent upon a certain explora- 
tion. They have interested the 
Council in the work, and the Coun- 
cil has requested the cooperation 
of this Service.” 

He glanced at me to make sure 
I understood. I certainly did; when 
the Supreme Council requested 
something, that thing was done. 

83 



84 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



“Very well, sir,” I said. “What 
are your orders?” 

The Chief shrugged. 

“Simply that you are to cooper- 
ate with Inverness and his party, 
assisl.ng them in every possible 
way, including the use of your 
ship for transporting them and a 
reasonable amount of equipment, to 
the field of their activities. The 
command of the ship remains, of 
course, in you and your officers, but 
in every reasonable way the Ertak 
and her crew are to be at the dis- 
posal of Inverness and his group. 
Is that clear. Commander?” 

“Perfectly, sir.” Nothing could 
have been clearer. I was to run the 
ship, and Inverness and his crew 
were to run me. I could just imag- 
ine how Correy, my fighting first 
officer, would take this bit of news. 
The mental picture almost made 
me laugh, disgusted as I was, 
“Written orders will, of course, 
be given you before departure. I 
believe that’s all. Good luck, Com- 
mander!” The Chief offered his 
hand briefly, and then hurried back 
to the other room where the Sil- 
ver-sleeves had gathered to make 
more rulings for the confusion of 
the Service. 

“QINCE when,” asked Correy 
bitterly, “are we running ex- 
cursions for civilians? V/e’ll be 
personally conducting elderly la- 
dies next thing.” 

“Or put on Attached Police Serv- 
ice,” growled Hendricks, referring 
to the poor devils who, in those 
days, policed the air-lanes of the 
populated worlds, cruising over the 
same pitiful routes day after day, 
never rising beyond the fringe of 
the stratosphere. 

“Perhaps,” suggested the level- 
headed Kincaide, “it isn’t as bad as 
it sounds. Didn’t you say, sir, that 
this Inverness was rather a decent 
sort of chap?” 

I nodded. 



“Very much so. You’d scarcely 
take him for a scientist.” 

“And our destination is — ^what?” 
asked Kincaide. 

“That I don’t know. Inverness is 
to give us that information when 
he arrives, which will be very short- 
ly, if he is on time.” 

“Our destination,” said Correy, 
“will probably be some little ball 
of mud with a tricky atmosphere 
or some freak vegetation they want 
to study. I’d rather — ” 

A sharp rap on the door of the 
navigating room, where we had 
gathered for an informal council 
of war, interrupted. 

“Party of three civilians at the 
main exit port. Port Number One, 
sir,” reported the sub-officer of the 
guard. “One sent his name: Carlos 
Inverness.” 

“Very good. Admit them at once, 
and recall the outer guards. We 
are leaving immediately.” 

As the guard saluted and hurried 
away, I nodded to Correy. “Have 
the operating room crew report for 
duty at once,” I ordered, “and ask 
Sub-officer Scholey to superintend 
the sealing of the ports. Mr. Kin- 
caide, will you take the first watch 
as navigating officer? Lift her easily 
until we determine our objective 
and can set a course; this is like 
shoving off with sealed orders.” 
“Worse,” said Hendricks un- 
happily. “Sealed orders promise 
something interesting, and — ” 
“Carlos Inverness and party,” an- 
nounced the guard from the door- 
way. 

Inverness nodded to me in friend- 
ly fashion and indicated his two 
companions. 

“Commander Hanson,” he said, 
“permit me to present Godar Ti- 
pene and Cleve Brady, who are my 
companions on this expedition.” I 
bowed, and shook hands with Bra- 
dy; Tipene was a Zenian, and 
hence did not offer me this greeting 
of Earth. Then, quickly, I com- 



THE DEATH-TRAPS OF FX-31 



85 



pleted the round of introductions, 
studying Inverness’s companions 
vpith interest as I did so. 

B rady was short, and rather 
red-faced; a beefy, taciturn 
type, with a trap-like mouth and 
thoughtful, discerning eyes. He 
struck me as being one with whom 
most men would like to be friend- 
ly, but who would have exceeding- 
ly few friends. 

The Zenian was a perfect foil 
for him. Tipene was exceedingly 
tall and slender, like all his race, 
and very dark. His eyes were al- 
most womanly in their softness, 
and he had the nervous grace of a 
thoroughbred — ^which is an Earth 
animal of particularly high breed- 
ing, raised for show purposes. He 
had the happy faculty of speaking 
the language of Earth without a 
trace of Zenian or Universal ac- 
cent; the Zenians are exceeded by 
none in linguistic ability, which 
was a real accomplishment before 
these decadent days when native 
languages are slipping so rapidly 
into obscurity. 

“And now,” said Inverness crisp- 
ly, when the introductions were 
over, “I presume you’ll wish to 
know something about our desti- 
nation and the objects of this ex- 
pedition, sir?” 

“It would be helpful in charting 
our course,” I admitted, smiling. 

Inverness, with beautiful disre- 
gard for the necessities of space 
navigation, spread voluminous pa- 
pers over the table whose surface 
was formed by the pair of three- 
dimensional charts which were the 
Ertal^s eyes in outer space. 

“Our destination,” he said, “is a 
body designated on the charts as 
FX-31. 'You are familiar with it. 
Commander Hanson?” 

“Hardly familiar,” I admitted, 
smiling at Correy. “The universe is 
rather sizable, and even the named 
bodies are so numerous that one 



is able to be familiar with but an 
exceedingly small percentage. Its 
designation, of course, gives me 
certain information regarding its 
size, location and status, however.” 

“How much information. Com- 
mander?” asked Tipene nervously. 

“Well, ‘F’ indicates that it is 
large ; larger than Earth, for ex- 
ample. The numerals tells me where 
to locate it upon our space charts. 
And the ‘X’ would indicate that it 
is inhabited, but not by intelligent 
beings. Or that there is reasonable 
doubt as to the nature of those in- 
habiting it.” 

“A very good summary of the 
knowledge we have,” nodded In- 
verness approvingly. “I can add but 
one bit of information which may 
or may not be accurate: that the 
sphere known as FX-31 is popu- 
lated by a ruling class decidedly 
unusual in type, and possessed of 
a degree of intelligence which has 
made them virtual masters of the 
sphere.” 

“What are they like?” asked Cor- 
rey. “Will they put up a fight? Are 
they dangerous?” 

“/’^UR knowledge came from a 
luckless tramp liner which 
set down on FX-31 in search of 
water, their water-producing equip- 
ment having been damaged by care- 
lessness. They found water, a great 
river of it, and sent a party of five 
men to determine its fitness for 
human consumption. They were 
snapped up before they had gone 
a hundred feet from the ship — and 
no more men were sent out. They 
hovered over the stream and drew 
up the water in containers devised 
for the purpose.” 

“Snapped up?” asked Correy im- 
patiently. “By whom? Or what?” 

“By spiders!” replied Inverness, 
his eyes shining with the fanatical 
gleam of a scientist who scents 
something strange. “Great spiders — 
perhaps not true spiders, but akin 



85 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



to them, from the descriptions we 
have — of what is known on Earth 
as the trap-door variety, but pos- 
sessed of a high degree of intelli- 
gence, the power of communication, 
and definitely organized.” 
“Organized,” put in Tipene, “in 
the sense that they work together 
instead of individually; that there 
are those to command and those to 
obey.” 

“You say they are large,” I com- 
mented. “How large?” 

“Large enough,” said Inverness 
grimly, “to enable one of them to 
instantly overpower a strong man.” 
I saw Correy glance forward, 
where our largest disintegrator-ray 
tubes were located, and his eyes lit 
up with the thought of battle. 

“If there’s anything I hate,” he 
gritted, “it’s a spider. The hairy, 
crawling beasts! I’ll man one of 
the tubes myself, just for the fun 
of seeing them dissolve into nice 
brown dust, and — ” 

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Correy,” 
said Inverness, shaking his head. 
“We’re going to study them — not to 
exterminate them. Our object is to 
learn their history, their customs, 
their mode of communication, and 
their degree of intelligence — if pos- 
sible.” 

“Yes,” grunted Brady. “If pos- 
sible.” 

K INCAIDE set the Ertak down 
on FX-31, close to the shore 
of a river, as gently as a feather 
settling to earth. Correy and I 
made our way to the exit port, 
where Inverness and his compan- 
ions had gathered, with a consid- 
erable amount of scientific appara- 
tus, and what seemed to be a boat, 
ingeniously taken down for ship- 
ment. 

All three of the scientists were 
clad in suits of some gray material, 
flexible as cloth, but possessed of 
a certain metallic sheen, which com- 
pletely covered them. The material 



had been stiffened to form a sort 
of helmet, with a broad band of 
transparent material set in at the 
eye level, so that the wearer could 
see to both sides, as well as to the 
front. I could also discern the 
outlines of menores — the crude and 
cumbersome type of thought-trans- 
ference instrument used in that day 
—apparently built into the helmets. 
Belted around their middles were 
atomic pistols of the latest and most 
deadly model. 

“For emergency use only. Com- 
mander,” explained Inverness, ob- 
serving my glance. His voice came 
quite clearly through the fabric 
which covered his face, so I gath- 
ered it was sufficiently porous to 
admit air for breathing. “This gar- 
ment we wear will be sufficient pro- 
tection, we believe; their mandibles 
are the weapons of the creatures 
we are to study, and this fabric 
should be ample protection against 
much more deadly weapons. 

“Now, we shall walk to the shore 
of the river; if we are not molest»-d 
— and I believe we shall not be, 
here, because the infiltration of wa- 
ter would quickly fill any passage 
sunk into this sandy earth so close 
to the river — please have your men 
bring our supplies to us, the boat 
first.” 

I nodded, and the three men 
walked through the open port, out 
across the gleaming, golden sand, 
to the water’s edge. A number of 
great scarlet birds, with long, 
fiercely taloned legs, swooped about 
them curiously, croaking hoarsely 
and snapping their hawkish beaks, 
but offering no real molestation. 

My men quickly carried their 
supplies to them, and before the 
last of the equipment had been 
delivered, the boat was assembled 
and afloat : a broad-beamed craft 
with hollow metal ribs, covered 
with some shining fabric which was 
unfamiliar to me. There was a small 
cabin forward and a small atomic 



THE DEATH-TRAPS OF FX-31 



87 



engine housed back near the stern. 

I walked to the edge of the water 
and shook hands with Inverness and 
Brady; with Tipene I exchanged 
bows. 

“I am sorry,” said Inverness, 
“that I am facing you with what 
will, undoubtedly, be a monotonous 
and wearying vigil, for we shall 
probably be gone several weeks.” 
He referred, I must explain, to a 
period of seven Earth days, a com- 
mon unit of time on Earth. 

“We’ll make the best of it,” I 
said, thinking of Correy, and how 
he would rage at such a period of 
inaction. “The best of luck to you!” 

“Thanks; we’ll remain no longer 
than necessary,” smiled Inverness, 
smiling, his shining eyes already 
fixed on the river ahead. 

“And that will be no short time,” 
said the taciturn Brady. “Shall we 
start?” 

C ORREY raged. I had expected 
that, and I was in complete 
sympathy with him. Routine patrol 
was better than being earth-fast on 
this barren and uninteresting ball 
of mud. 

“Have I your permission, sir,” 
asked Correy on the fourth day, 
“to make a little tour of inspection 
and exploration? We might run 
into some fresh meat.” 

“I’m not sure that would be wise. 
These spider creatures — ” 

“Pardon me, sir,” interrupted 
Correy eagerly, “but we could take 
a small landing force, armed with 
pistols and grenades. Even a field 
ray tube. Certainly we could handle 
anything which might turn up, 
then.” 

“And you rather hope that some- 
thing will turn up, Mr. Correy?” 
Correy grinned and shrugged his 
shoulders. 

“It would break the monotony, 
wouldn’t it, sir? And, too, if any- 
thing should happen to them” — and 
he glanced up the river, in the di- 



rection taken by the three scien- 
tists — “we’d know something about 
what had to contend with, wouldn’t 
we?” ’ 

I’m not sure whether it was Cor- 
rey’s argument or my own venture- 
some disposition which swayed me, 
but immediately after lunch Correy 
and I, with a picked crew of men, 
started out from the ship. 

Up until that time, we had con- 
fined our activities to the area be- 
tween the ship and the shore — a 
small enough space at best. Now we 
rounded the shining blunt bow of 
the Ertak and headed inland, Cor- 
rey and myself in the lead, the two 
portable disintegrator ray men im- 
mediately behind us, and the four 
other men of the party flanking the 
ray operators, two on each side. 

It was hot, but the air was dry 
and invigorating. There was not a 
cloud visible in the sky. Far ahead 
was a low line of bluish, fronded, 
vegetation; whether small trees or 
some fern-like undergrowth, we 
could not determine. The ground 
between the ship and the line of 
vegetation was almost completely 
barren, the only growth being a 
Kchenous sort of vegetation, gray- 
green in color. 

H ERE and there on the ground 
were the imprints of sharp, 
split hoofs, and Correy pointed 
these out to me with the comment 
that one of the guards had reported 
seeing a number of slender-legged 
animals roaming here in the star- 
light, apparently seeking water, but 
frightened by the strange appari- 
tion of our ship. 

“From the way he described them, 
they’re something like the deer we 
used to have on Earth,” he said. 
“I’ve seen the fossils in the mu- 
seums, and they had little sharp, 
split hoofs like — ” 

One of the men behind us shouted 
a warning at that instant, and we 
both whirled in our tracks. My 



88 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



eyes fell instantly upon one of the 
strangest and most fearsome sights 
I have ever seen — and I have ex- 
plored many strange and terrible 
worlds. 

To our left, a huge circular sec- 
tion of the earth had lifted, and 
was swinging back on a hinge of 
glistening white fibers; a disk as 
great in diameter as the height of 
a man, and as thick as a man’s 
body. 

Where the disk had been, gaped 
a tunnel slanting down into the 
earth, and lined with the same glis- 
tening white fibers which covered 
the bottom of the disk, and hinged 
it in place. As I looked, there 
sprang from this tunnel a thing 
which I shall call a spider, yet 
which was too monstrous to be 
called by such an innocuous name. 

It was rust red in color, with 
eight bristling legs, each tipped 
with three curved and tufted claws. 
On each side of its face was an 
armored mandible, tipped with shin- 
ing fangs, and beside them, slender, 
six-jointed palps stretched hungrily. 

The man who had seen the disk 
fly up opened fire without orders, 
and if he had not done so, some of 
us would not have returned to the 
ship. As it was, the atomic pistol 
whispered a steady stream of death 
which spattered the hairy body 
into an oozing pulp while it was 
still in mid-air. We leaped away, 
adding our fire to that of the alert 
guard who had first seen the appa- 
rition, and the spider, a twitching 
bundle of bespattered legs, fell on 
the spot where, an instant before, 
we had been. 

Almost at the same instant two 
other great circular trap-doors 
swung up, just beyond the first, and 
their hairy, malignant occupants 
leaped toward us. 

O UR pistols were ready, now, 
however, and the portable ray 
equipment was humming. The ray 



dissolved the first into a sifting of 
reddish dust, and our pistols 
slashed the other into ribbons. 

“Back to the ship!” I shouted. 
“Look, Mr. Correy — there are hun- 
dreds of them!” 

Before us score upon score of 
the great disks were lifting, and 
from the tunnel each revealed, 
monstrous rust-red bodies were 
pouring. 

Our retreat covered by the two 
ray operators, we made our way 
swiftly to the ship. The great spi- 
ders, apparently alarmed by the 
magical disappearance of those of 
their comrades upon which the dis- 
integrator ray rested, hesitated for 
a moment, their tremendous legs 
tensed, and their mandibles quiver- 
ing with venomous anger, and then 
scuttled back into their holes, 
swinging their covers into place as 
they did so. 

“We didn’t do so badly, at that,” 
grinned Correy rather breathlessly, 
as we gained the welcome shelter 
of the Ertak. “There are a score 
and more of those potlids still 
standing open — ^which means that 
many spiders didn’t go back to tell 
about what happened to them.” 

“True — but had they waited un- 
til they could have surrounded us, 
the Ertak would have been short- 
handed on the return trip. She 
would have been just two officers 
and six men short.” 

I have never seen a real expres- 
sion of fear on Correy’s face, but I 
came as close to it then as I ever 
did. 

“They’re tough customers,” he 
said. “I never did like spiders, and 
I like them less, now. Those things 
stood half again as high as a man 
on their long legs, and could jump 
half the length of the ship.” 

“Hardly that,” I said. “But I’ll 
say this: if they’re the gentry In- 
verness and the other two are in- 
vestigating, they’re welcome to their 
jobs!” 



THE DEATH-TRAPS OF FX-31 



89 



T here wasn’t any difficulty in 
keeping the men close to the 
ship after that, although waiting 
was a tedious and nerve-racking 
procedure. 

We watched the spider-invested 
territory closely, however, and 
found that they fed at night upon 
the deer-like creatures Correy had 
mentioned. These unwary beasts, 
seeking water, were pounced upon 
the instant they came close to one 
of the hidden dens, and dragged 
swiftly out of sight. These obser- 
vations were made by television, 
and Correy in particular would sit 
up half the night watching the crea- 
tures at work. 

It was the second day of the 
fourth week that the sentry on 
duty called out that the boat was 
returning. We hastened down to 
the river to welcome them back, and 
I for one felt very much relieved. 

But as the boat approached, I felt 
my fears returning, for there was 
only one man visible: Tipene. 

The Zenian, bedraggled and 
weary, had lost or discarded the 
protective suit he had worn, and 
his lean, dark face was haggard. 

“We leave immediately. Comman- 
der Hanson,” he said as he disem- 
barked. “Please give the necessary 
orders.” 

“But the others, sir? Where are 
Inverness and Brady?” 

“Dead,” said Tipene. “The Ara- 
nians got them. I barely escaped 
myself.” 

“And who are the Aranians?” I 
asked. 

“The creatures which control 
this world. The spider creatures. 
Aranians, they call themselves. Do 
we leave at once, as I ordered?” 

I thought quickly. I didn’t like 
Tipene, and never had, and I fan- 
cied even less the high-handed atti- 
tude he was taking. 

“I would suggest, sir, that you 
first give us an account of what has 
happened,” I said shortly, “If there 



is anything we can do for the other 
two, perhaps — ” 

“I said they were dead,” snapped 
Tipene. “You can’t do anything for 
dead men, can you?” 

“No. But we must have a report 
to enter on our log, you understand, 
and — I’ll be very busy on the return 
trip. I’d like to have your story be- 
fore we start.” Somehow, I was 
suspicious of Tipene. 

“Very well. Although I warn you 
I shall report your delay to your 
superiors.” I shrugged, and led the 
way to the dining saloon which, 
small as it was, held chairs enough 
to seat us all. 

“Tl VrY story is very brief,” he 
JLYX said, when my three offi- 
cers, Tipene, and myself were 
seated. “We proceeded up the river 
to a spot which we deemed suited 
as a point of entry into the coun- 
try, and far enough from the ship 
so that its presence would not be 
alarming to the inhabitants. 

“We permitted ourselves to be 
captured by the Aranians, knowing 
that our protective suits would pre- 
vent them from doing us serious 
bodily injury. 

“You have seen the creatures^ — 
word of your adventure with them 
precipitated our misfortune, I might 
say here — and you know of their 
tunnels. We were taken down one 
of these tunnels, and into a still 
larger one. This in turn gave onto 
a veritable subterranean avenue, 
and, in time, led to a sort of under- 
ground metropolis.” 

“What?” growled Correy. “An 
underground city of those things?” 
“I should like to ask that you do 
not interrupt,” said Tipene coldly. 
“Thic metropolis was really no 
more than a series of cubicles, open- 
ing off the innumerable crisscross- 
ing tunnels, and many layers in 
thickness. Passage from one level 
to another was by means of slant- 
ing tunnels. 



90 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



“Some of these cubicles were very 
large, and utilized as storage rooms. 
Others were used for community 
activities, schools, entertainments, 
and so forth. We learned these 
things later, and explored them by 
means of our ethon lamps — the en- 
tire system of tunnels being, of 
course, in utter darkness. 

“The first few days they were 
exceedingly hostile, and tried to 
tear us to pieces. When they could 
not do this, word was sent to some 
of their more learned members, and 
we were investigated. By the use of 
extra menores we had brought with 
us, we established a contact with 
their minds ; first by the usual 
process of impressing pictures of 
our thoughts upon their minds, and 
later by more direct process. 

“f WILL say nothing of the 
X great scientific value of our 
discoveries, for you would neither 
understand nor appreciate them — 
although they will set the scien- 
tific universe agog,” continued Ti- 
pene, his eyes gleaming suddenly 
with a triumphant light. “As we 
perfected communication, we con- 
vinced them that we were friendly, 
and we gained their complete con- 
fidence. 

“They are a very ancient race. 
Very slowly have they come to 
their present stage of mental de- 
velopment, but they now possess 
reasoning faculties, a language — 
and a form of community govern- 
ment. There is much more, which, 
as I have said, would be of no 
significance to you. 

“And then word came that beings 
like ourselves had attacked and 
killed many of the Aranians. The 
news had traveled slowly, for their 
system of communication is crude, 
but it reached the community cen- 
ter in which we were staying. 

“Instantly, all was hostility. They 
felt they had been betrayed, and 
that we might betray them. Brady 



and Inverness, always rash and 
thoughtless, had discarded their 
protectivo suits» j feeling sure they 
were perfectly safe, and they were 
torn to pieces. 

“I, having a more scientific and 
cautious mind, doubting everything 
as a true scientific mind must, still 
wore my armor. By the liberal use 
of my pistol, I managed to fight my 
way to the surface, and to the boat. 
And now. Commander Hanson, will 
you start back, as I have ordered?” 

I don’t know what I would have 
said if I had not caught a peculiar 
glance from Correy, a glance ac- 
companied by a significant, momen- 
tary closing of one eye (a gesture 
of Earth which means many things, 
and which is impossible to explain) 
and a slight nod. 

“Very well, Mr. Tipene,” I said 
shortly. “We’ll start at once. Gen- 
tlemen, will you join me in the 
navigating room?” 

C ORREY was the last to arrive 
in the navigating room, and 
when he came in his eyes were 
dancing. 

“I’ve just transferred Tipene to 
another stateroom, sir,” he said. 
“A specially equipped stateroom.” 
“You what?” ^ 

“If you’ll give orders, sir, for an 
immediate start. I’ll tell you all 
about it,” chuckled Correy. “Tipene 
says he’s worn out, and is going to 
retire as soon as we start. And 
when he does — ^we’ll learn some- 
thing.” 

I nodded to Kincaide, and he 
gave the general attention signal. 
In a few seconds the outer sentry 
was recalled, and the exit port had 
been sealed. Slowly, the Ertak 
lifted. 

“Maybe I’m wrong, sir,” said Cor- 
rey then, “but I’m convinced that 
Tipene is lying. Something’s wrong; 
he was in altogether too much of a 
hurry to get away. 

“So, before I transferred him to 



THE DEATH-TRAPS OF FX-31 



91 



the other stateroom, I concealed a 
menore under the mattress of his 
bunk, immediately! under where his 
head will lie. It’s'" adjusted to full 
strength, and I believe it will pick 
up enough energy to emanate what 
he’s thinking about. We’ll be in the 
next stateroom and see what we 
can pick up. How does that sound, 
sir?” 

“Like something you’d cook up, 
Mr. Correy !” I said promptly. “And 
I believe, as you do, that if it 
works at all, we’ll find out some- 
thing interesting.” 

We equipped ourselves with 
menores, adjusted to maximum 
power, and silently filed into the 
stateroom adjacent to Tipene’s. 

He was moving about slowly, ap- 
parently undressing, for we heard 
first one boot and then another 
drop to the floor. And we could 
sense vague emanations, too faint 
to be intelligible, and unmistakably 
coming from him. 

“Probably sitting on the edge of 
his bunk,” whispered Correy. 
“When he lies down, it’ll work 
like a charm!” 

It did — almost too well. Sudden- 
ly we caught a strong emanation, 
in the Universal language. 

“QURLY individual, that Han- 
son — didn’t like my giving 
orders — hurt his dignity. But I had 
my own way, and that’s all that’s 
important. Seemed to be suspicious 
— they all were. Maybe I was a bit 
urgent — ^but I was afraid — those 
damned Aranians might have 
changed their spidery minds. 

“They can’t be very intelligent — 
to think I’d come back with tribute 
to pay for the spiders that fool 
Hanson and his men killed. Why, 
the ship’s rays could wipe them all 
out, drill a hole in the ground— 
they didn’t realize that. Thought 
that by holding Brady and that 
conceited Inverness for hostages, 
they’d be safe — and I’d be idiotic 



enough to not see this chance to get 
all the glory of the expedition for 
myself — instead of sharing it with 
those two. You’re a. quick thinker, 
Tipene — the true, ruthless, scien- 
tific mind. ...” 

I motioned for my officers to fol- 
low me, and we made our way, 
silent and grim-faced, to the navi- 
gating room. 

“Nice, friendly lad, isn’t he?” 
snarled Correy. “I thought there 
was something up. What are your 
plans, sir?” 

“We’ll go to the rescue of In- 
verness and Brady, of course. Mr. 
Correy, place Tipene under arrest, 
and bring him here at once. Mr. 
Kincaide, take over the ship; give 
orders to set her down where we 
were. And you, Mr. Hendricks, will 
take personal command of the for- 
ward ray tubes.” 

My officers sprang to obey orders, 
and I paced restlessly up and down 
the room, thinking. Just as the 
Ertak settled softly to earth, Cor- 
rey returned with his prisoner. Two 
men stood on guard with drawn 
atomic pistols at the door. 

“What’s the meaning of this in- 
dignity, sir?” flared Tipene. He had 
dressed hurriedly, and was by no 
means an imposing spectacle. He 
drew himself up to his full height, 
and tried to look domineering, but 
there was fear in his eyes. “I shall 
report you — ” 

“You’ll do no reporting, Tipene,” 
I broke in coldly. “I’ll do the re- 
porting. You see, we know all about 
your little plan to desert your com- 
rades, held by the Aranians as hos- 
tages, and to grasp all the glory 
of your findings for yourself. But — 
the plan doesn’t work. We’re go- 
ing back.” 

T IPENE’S face drained a dirty 
yellow — a Zenian can never be 
actually pale. 

“You . . . how. . . .” he flounder- 
ed. 



92 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



“A menore, under your pillow,” 
I explained crisply. “But that 
doesn’t matter, now. You will guide 
us to the spot where you found 
the Aranian city, and establish com- 
munication with the Aranians. 
When that’s done. I’ll give you 
further orders.” 

“And if I won’t?” breathed Ti- 
pene, his teeth clenched in a shak- 
ing rage. 

“But you will. Otherwise, we’ll 
permit you to continue your ex- 
plorations on this interesting little 
sphere — minus your protective suit.” 

Tipene stared at me with horror- 
stricken eyes. I think he saw that 
I meant exactly what I said — and 
I was not bluffing. 

“I— I’ll do it,” he said. 

“Then watch the river carefully,” 
I ordered. “Kincaide, lift her 
just enough so we can get a good 
view of the river. Tipene will tell 
you where to set her down.” 

Navigating visually, Kincaide fol- 
lowed the winding course of the 
river, covering in a few minutes a 
distance it had taken the scien- 
tists a day to navigate. 

“There — there is the place,” said 
Tipene suddenly. “Just this side 
of th . patch of vegetation.” 

“Very good. And remember what 
happens if you play any tricks,” I 
nodded grimly. “Descend to with- 
in a few yards of the ground, Mr, 
Kincaide; we’ll drop Tipene through 
the trap.” 

Correy hurried the prisoner away, 
and I ordered the trap in the bot- 
tom of the Ertak’s hull to be 
opened. 

“Now,” I informed Tipene, “we’ll 
let you down and you will estab- 
lish communication with the Ara- 
nians. Tell them you have brought 
back, not tribute, but an enemy 
powerful enough to blast their en- 
tire city out of existence. It will 
be a simple matter for you to pic- 
ture what an atomic grenade or one 
of the ship’s rays will do. We’ll 



arrange a little demonstration, if 
they’re not convinced. And tell 
them thA if they don’t want to be 
wiped but, to bring Inverness and 
Brady to us, unharmed, as fast as 
their eight long legs will manage.” 
“They won’t do it,” whined Ti- 
pene. “They were very angry over 
the killing of those others. I’m 
just risking my life without the 
possibility of gain.” 

“You obey my orders, or you go 
down and stay there,” I said ab- 
ruptly. “Which?” 

“I’ll do as you say,” he said, and 
the cage dropped with him swiftly. 

A S soon as he was on the ground 
he reached up and adjusted 
his menore, peering around anxious- 
ly. For several minutes nothing 
happened, and then,, the length of 
the ship away, one of the great 
trap-doors flew open. Out of it 
came one of the spiders, not rust- 
red like those we had seen, but 
faded to a dirty yellow. Close be- 
hind him were two of the rust-red 
Aranians, which fell in one on 
each side of the yellow chap. 

The first Aranian, I presumed — 
and rightly — ^was one of the old 
learned members of the race. As 
he scuttled closer to the cowering 
Tipene, I saw that, amidst the 
bristles which covered his head and 
thorax, was a menore. 

The three great spiders ap- 
proached the ship warily, watching 
it constantly with huge, glittering 
eyes. A safe distance away they 
paused, and the old one fixed his 
attention on Tipene. 

Evidently, what Tipene emanated 
caused the old fellow to become 
very angry; I could see his legs 
quivering, and his withered old 
mandibles fairly clattered. 

“He says he won’t do it!” Ti- 
pene called up to me, excitedly. 
“Says we can’t reach them under- 
ground, and that they’ll kill their 
hostages if we try to harm them.” 



THE DEATH-TRAPS OF FX-31 



93 



“Ask him if there are any tun- 
nels between the ship and the 
river,” I commanded. “WeUl demon- 
strate what we can do if he harms 
Inverness and Brady.” 

The two were in silent com- 
munion for a moment, and Tipene 
looked up and shook his head. 

“No,” he shouted. “No tunnels 
there. The water would seep into 
them.” 

“Then tell him to watch!” 

I stepped back and pressed an 
attention signal. 

“Mr. Hendricks?” 

“Yes, sir!” 

“Open up with the starboard tube, 
full power, concentrated beam, at 
any spot halfway between here and 
the river. At once.” 

“At once, sir!” 

T he ray generators hummed in- 
stantly, their note deepening a 
moment later. The ray bit into the 
dry, sandy soil, boring steadily 
into the earth, making an opening 
over twice the height of a man in 
diameter. 

The fine, reddish-brown dust of 
disintegration hung swirling above 
the mouth of the tunnel at first, and 
then, as the ray cut deeper into 
the earth, settled quickly and dis- 
appeared. 

“Cease operation, Mr. Hendricks!” 
I commanded. “Keep the generators 
on, and stand by for further orders.” 
As soon as Hendricks’ quick ac- 
knowledgment came back, I called 
down to Tipene. 

“Tell your friend to inspect the 
little hole we drilled,” I said. “Tell 
him to crawl down into it, if he 
wishes to see how deep it is. And 
then inform him that we have sev- 
eral ray tubes like this one, and 
that if he does not immediately pro- 
duce his hostages, unharmed, we’ll 
rise above his city and blast out a 
crater big enough to bury the Er- 
tak.” 

Tipene nodded and communicated 



with the aged Aranian, who had 
cowered from the shaft in the earth 
disintegrated by our ray, and who 
now, very cautiously, approached it, 
flanked by his two far from eager 
guards. 

At the lip of the slanting tunnel 
he paused, peered downward, and 
then, circling cautiously, approached 
the lidded tunnel whence he had 
emerged. 

“He agrees,” Tipene called up 
sullenly. “He will deliver Inverness 
and Brady to us. But we must come 
and get them; he says they have 
barricaded themselves in one of the 
cubicles, and will not permit any 
Aranian to approach. They still 
have their atomic pistols; the Ara- 
nians did not realize they were 
weapons.” 

“Very well; tell him a party from 
the ship will be ready in a few sec- 
onds. You will go with us as inter- 
preter ; you understand how to com- 
municate with them.” 

I PRESSED Correy’s attention 
signal and he answered instant- 
ly* 

“Pick five good men for a land- 
ing party, two of them portable 
disintegrator ray operators, with 
equipment. The others will be pro- 
vided with ethon lamps, pistols, and 
atomic grenades. Get the men to 
the trap as quickly as possible, 
please.” 

“Immediately, sir!” 

I had the cage drawn up, and 
by the time I had secured my own 
equipment and returned, Correy 
was waiting with his men. 

“One second, Mr. Correy, and 
we’ll leave,” I said, calling the 
navigating room. “Mr. Kincaide, 
I’m leaving you in command. We 
are going into the Aranian city to 
pick up Inverness and Brady. I 
anticipate no trouble, and if there 
is no trouble, we shall return with- 
in an hour. If we are not back 
within three hours, blast this en- 



94 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



tire area with atomic grenades, and 
riddle it with the rays. Is that 
clear?” 

"Yes, sir,” said Kincaide. 

“And then proceed immediately 
to Base and report. I have made 
an entry in the log regarding this 
expedition, as official evidence, if, 
needed.” 

“Right, sir,” said Kincaide, who 
was as near a perfect officer as 1 
have ever seen. 

“Mr. Correy, you’ve heard my 
orders. So have you, men. We’re 
going underground, into'a veritable 
warren of these spider creatures. If 
any of you wish to refuse this 
service, you have my permission to 
withdraw.” 

Not a man moved. Correy hardly 
repressed a grin. He knew the men 
he had picked for the job. 

“Good!” I said, and signaled to 
the cage operator. Swiftly we 
dropped to earth, where Tipene and 
our three hairy guides awaited us. 

T he descent into the white- 
lined tunnel was a terrifying 
experience. The lining was tough 
and fibrous, a sort of coarse ma- 
terial corresponding to the silk 
of a spider of normal size, although 
these strands were as large as my 
little finger, and strong as cables. 

A close inspection of our guides 
added nothing to my confidence or 
bravery; their eight beady eyes, 
set at strategic spots about their 
heads, seemed unwinkingly omi- 
nous. And their mandibles, with 
fangs folded back like the blades 
of a pocket-knife, paired with their 
bristly palps, seemed like very 
capable weapons. 

The Aranians ran ahead of us, 
our ethon lamps making strange 
and distorted shadows on the curv- 
ing walls of the tunnel. Correy and 
I herded the unwilling Tipene just 
ahead of us, and the five picked 
men brought up the rear. 

About forty feet down, the floor 



of the tunnel curved sharply and 
leveled oflF ; a short distance farther 
on a nuifiber of other level tunnels 
merged ■'•%ith it, and the shape 
changed; from a tube perfectly cir- 
cular in cross-section, it became a 
flattened oval, perhaps half again 
the height of a man, and at least 
three times that dimension in width. 

Our party was joined by scores 
of other Aranians, who darted in 
from side passages; some going 
ahead, some closing in behind us, 
until the tunnel was filled with the 
peculiar brittle sound of their 
walking. 

“They don’t lack for numbers,” 
muttered Correy softly. “Think 
they’ll make trouble, sir?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine. 
I showed them what the ray would 
do; I believe it threw a scare into 
the old chap. Did you tell them 
what we would do if they played 
any tricks, Tipene?” 

“Certainly; my own life is en- 
dangered, isn’t it?"’ snapped the 
Zenian. 

“It certainly is,” I told him grim- 
ly. “And not only by the spiders, 
if you make any suspicious moves.” 

W E went on without further 
conversation, until we came 
to the. beginning of the cubicles 
Tipene had mentioned. 

Each of these was closed, or 
could be closed, by a circular door 
such as those which concealed the 
outer entrance to the tunnels, save 
that these were swung on a side 
hinge. From the central passage we 
were following, smaller ones 
branched off in all directions; to 
the left, to the right; upward and 
downward. And all were lined with 
the cubicles, from which a constant- 
ly increasing army of Aranians 
emerged to accompany us. 

We had gone but a short distance 
into the “city” when our ancient 
guide paused, turning to stare down 
a deserted passage. 



THE DEATH-TRAPS OF FX-31 



95 



“Hi says,” grunted Tipene — ^as 
near a grunt as the high-pitched 
Zenian voice is capable ijpf, “that 
they’re down there. He ashs that 
we go and get them; he is afraid. 
They have killed two of the Ara- 
nians already with their atomic pis- 
tols.” 

“For which I don’t blame them in 
the least,” said Correy. “I’d get as 
many as I could before I let them 
sink their mandibles into me.” 

“But I thought they were hos- 
tages, and being treated as such?” 

“The Aranians got tired of wait- 
ing; some of the younger ones 
tried to do their own executing,” 
explained Tipene. “The whole brood 
of them is in an ugly mood, the 
old fellow tells me. We were fools 
to come!” 

I didn’t argue the matter. You 
can’t argue such a matter with a 
man like Tipene. Instead, I lifted 
my voice in a shout which echoed 
down the long corridors. 

“Brady! Inverness! Can you hear 
us?” 

For a moment there was no re- 
ply, and then, as our ethon lights 
played hopefully along the passage, 
a circular door opened, and Inver- 
ness, his pistol drawn, peered out 
at us. A moment later, both he and 
Brady were running toward us. 

“Hanson!” cried Inverness. “Man, 
but we’re glad to see a human face 
again — but why did you come? Now 
they’ve got us all.” 

“But they’ll let us all go,” I 
said, with a confidence I did not 
feel. “I’ve demonstrated to one of 
their leaders just what the Ertak 
can do— and will do — if we aren’t 
aboard, safe and unhurt, in three 
hours.” 

“The young bloods don’t obey 
well, though,” said Brady, shaking 
his head. ’‘Look at them, milling 
around there in the central passage! 
They didn’t see your demonstration, 
whatever it was. They started for 
us some time back, and we had to 



rip a couple of them to pieces, and 
barricade ourselves.” 

“Well,” said Correy grimly, 
“we’ll soon find out. Ready to start 
back, sir?” 

I TURNED to Tipene, who was 
staring at the packed mass of 
Aranians, who choked the tunnel 
in both directions. 

“Tell them to make way,” I com- 
manded. “We’re leaving.” 

“I’ve — I’ve been in communica- 
tion with him,” moaned Tipene. 
“And he hasn’t any power over 
these youngsters. They want blood. 
Blood ! They say the ship won’t 
dare do anything so long as so 
many of us are here.” 

“It will, though,” I snapped. 
“Kincaide will obey my orders to 
the letter. It’ll be a wholesale 
slaughter, if we’re not there by the 
specified time.” 

“I know! I know!” groaned Ti- 
pene. “But I can’t make them under- 
stand that. They can’t appreciate 
the meaning of such discipline.” 

“I believe that,” put in Brady. 
“Their state of society is still low 
in the scale. You shouldn’t have 
come. Commander. Better the two 
of us than the whole group.” 

“It may not be so simple as they 
think. Mr. Correy, shall we make 
a dash for it?” 

“I’d be in favor of that, sir!” he 
grinned. 

“Very well, you take three of 
the enlisted men, Mr. Correy, and 
give us a brisk rear-guard action 
when we get into the main passage 
— if we do. Use the grenades if you 
have to, but throw them as fast 
as possible, or we’ll have the roof 
coming down on us. 

“The two ray operators and my- 
self will try to open a way, backed 
up by Inverness and Brady. Under- 
stand, everybody?” The men took 
the places I had indicated, nodding, 
and we stood at the mouth of the 
side tunnel, facing the main passage 



96 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



which intersected it at a right 
angle. The mouth of the passage 
was blocked by a crowded mass of 
the spider creatures, evidently 
eager to pounce on us, but afraid 
to start an action in those narrow 
quarters. 

As we came tov^ard them, the 
Aranians packed about the entrance 
gave way grudgingly, all save two 
or three. Without an instant’s hesi- 
tation, I lifted my pistol and 
slashed them into jerking pulp. 

“Hold the ray,” I ordered the two 
men by my side, “until we need it. 
They’ll get a surprise when it goes 
into action.” 

W E needed it the moment we 
turned into the main corri- 
dor, for here the passage was 
broad, and in order to prevent the 
creatures from flanking us, we had 
to spread our front and rear guards 
until they were no more than two 
thin lines. 

Seeing their advantage, the Ara- 
nians rushed us. At a word from 
me, the ray operators went into 
action, and I did what I could with 
my comparatively ineffective pistol. 
Between us, we swept the passage 
clean as far as we could see — ^which 
was not far, for the reddish dust 
of disintegration hung in the quiet 
air, and the light of our ethon lamps 
could not pierce it. 

For a moment I thought we 
would have clear sailing ; Correy 
and his men were doing fine work 
behind us, and our ray was sweep- 
ing everything before us. 

Then we came to the first of the 
intersecting passages, and a clat- 
tering horde of Aranians leaped out 
at us. The ray operators stopped 
them, but another passage on the 
opposite side was spewing out more 
than I could handle with my pistol. 

Two of the hairy creatures were 
fairly upon me before the ray 
swung to that side and dissolved 
them into dust. For an instant the 



party stopped, checked by these 
unexpected flank attacks. 

And there would be more of these 
sallies from the hundreds of pas- 
sages which opened off the main 
corridor; I had no doubt of that. 
And there the creatures had us: 
our deadly ray could not reach 
them out ahead; we must wait un- 
til we were abreast, and then the 
single ray could work upon but 
one side. Correy needed every man 
he had to protect our rear, and my 
pistol was not adequate against a 
rush at such close quarters. That 
fact had just been proved to me 
with unpleasant emphasis. 

It was rank folly to press on; 
the party would be annihilated. 

“Down this passage, men,” I or- 
dered the two ray operators. “We’ll 
have to think up a better plan.” 

They turned off into the passage 
they had swept clean with their 
ray, and the rest of the party fol- 
l9wed swiftly. A few yards from 
the main corridor the passage 
turned and ran parallel to the cor- 
ridor we had just left. Doors 
opened off this passage on both 
sides, but all the doors were open, 
and the cubicles thus revealed were 
empty. 

ELL, sir,” said Correy, 
when we had come to the 
dead end of the passage, “now 
what?” 

“I don’t knov/,” I confessed. “If 
we had two ray machines, we could 
make it. But if I remember cor- 
rectly, it’s seven hundred yards, yet, 
t'' the first of the tunnels leading 
to the surface — and that means sev- 
eral hundred side passages from 
which they can attack. We can’t 
make it.” 

“Well, we can try again, an}rway, 
sir,” Correy replied stoutly. “Bet- 
ter to go down fighting than stay 
here and starve, eh?” 

“If you’ll pardon me, gentlemen,” 
put in Inverness, “I’d like to make 




THE DEATH-TRAPS OF FX-31 



97 



a suggestion. We can’t return the 
way we came in; I’m convinced of 
that. It was the sheerest Tuck that 
Commander Hanson wasn’t brought 
down a moment ago — luck, and ex- 
cellent work on the part of the two 
ray operators. 

“But an analysis of our problem 
shows that our real objective is to 
reach the surface, and that need 
not be done the most obvious way, 
by returning over the course by 
which we entered.” 

“How, then?” I asked sharply. 

“The disintegrator ray you have 
there should be able to cut a pas- 
sage for us,” said Inverness. “Then 
all we need do is protect our rear 
while the operators are working. 
Once on the surface, we’ll be able 
to fight our way to the ship, will 
we not?” 

“Of course! You should be in 
command, Inverness, instead of my- 
self.” His was the obvious solution 
to our difficulty; once proposed, I 
felt amazingly stupid that the 
thought had not occurred to me. 

I gave the necessary orders to the 
ray men, and they started imme- 
diately, boring in steadily at an 
angle of about forty-five degrees. 

The reddish dust came back to 
us in choking clouds, and the Ara- 
nians, perhaps guessing .what we 
were doing — at least one of their 
number had seen how the ray could 
tunnel in the ground — started work- 
ing around the angle of the passage. 

A t first they came in small 
groups, and our pistols read- 
ily disposed of them, but as the 
dust filled the air, and it became 
increasingly difficult to see their 
spidery bodies, they rushed us in 
great masses. 

Correy and I, shoulder to shoul- 
der, fired at the least sign of move- 
ment in the cloud of dust. A score 
of times the rushes of the Aranians 
brought a few of them scuttling al- 
most to our feet; inside of a few 



minutes the passage was choked, 
waist high, with the riddled bodies 
— and still they came! 

“We’re through, sir!” shouted 
one of the ray operators. “If you 
can hold them off another fifteen 
minutes, we’ll have the hole large 
enough to crawl through.” 

“Work fast!” I ordered. Even 
with Inverness, Brady, and the 
three of the Ertak’s crew doing 
what they could in those narrow 
quarters, we were having a hard 
time holding back the horde of an- 
gry, desperate Aranians. Tipene 
was useless; he was cowering be- 
side the ray operators, chattering 
at them, urging them to hurry. 

Had we had good light, our task 
would have been easy, but the 
passage was choked now with dust. 
Our ethon lamps made little more 
than a dismal glow. The clattering 
Aranians were almost within leap- 
ing distance before we could see 
them; indeed, more than one was 
stopped in mid-air by a spray from 
one pistol or another. 

“Ready, sir,” gasped the ray man 
who had spoken before. “I think 
we’ve got it large enough, now.” 
“Good!” I brought down two 
scuttling Aranians, so close that 
their twitching legs fell in an un- 
tidy heap almost at my feet. “You 
go first, and protect our advance. 
Then the rest of you; Mr. Correy 
and I will bring up the — ” 

“No!” screamed Tipene, shoulder- 
ing aside the ray men. “I. . . 

He disappeared into the slanting 
shaft, and the two ray men fol- 
lowed quickly. The three members 
of the crew v/ent next; then Brady 
and Inverness. 

Correy and I backed toward the 
freshly cut passage. 

“I’ll be right behind you,” I 
snapped, “so keep moving!” 

T ORREY hesitated an instant; I 
knew he would have preferred 
the place of danger as the last man. 



98 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



but he was too good an officer to 
protest when time was so precious. 
He climbed into the slanting pas- 
sage the ray had cut for us, and as 
he did so, I heard, or thought I 
heard, a cry from beyond him, from 
one of those ahead. 

I gave Correy several seconds 
before I followed; when I did start, 
' I planned on coming fast, for in 
that shoulder-tight tube I would 
be utterly at the mercy of any who 
might attack from behind. 

Fairly spraying the oncoming 
horde, I drove them back, for a 
moment, beyond the angle in the 
corridor; then I fairly dived dnto 
the tunnel and crawled as fast as 
hands and knees could take me to- 
ward the blessed open air. 

I heard the things clatter into 
the space I had deserted. I heard 
them scratching frantically in the 
tunnel behind me, evidently handi- 
capped by their long legs, which 
must have been drawn up very 
close to their bodies. 

Light came pouring in on me 
suddenly, and I realized that Cor- 
rey had won free. Behind me I 
could hear savage mandibles snap- 
ping, and cold sweat broke out on 
me. How close a terrible death 
might be, I had no means of know- 
ing — ^but it was very close. 

My head emerged; I drew my 
body swiftly out of the hole and 
snatched a grenade from my belt. 
Instantly I flung it down the slant- 
ing passage, with a shout of warn- 
ing to my companions. 

With a muffled roar, the grenade 
shook the earth; sent a brown cloud 
spattering around us. I had made a 
desperate leap to get away, but 
even then I was covered by the 
shower of earth. 



I looked around. Trapdoors were 
open everywhere, and from hun- 
dreds of these openings, Aranians 
were scuttling toward us. 

Bat the ray operators were work- 
ing; not only the little portable 
machine, but the big projectors on 
the Ertak, five or six hundred yards 
away; laying down a deadly and 
impassable barrage on either side 
of us. 

“rTAHEY got Tipene, sir!” said 

X Correy. “He dodged out ahead 
of the ray men, and two of them 
pounced on him. They were drag- 
ging him away, tearing him. The 
ray men wiped them out. Tipene 
was already dead — torn to frag- 
ments, they said. Back to the ship 
now, sir?” 

“Back to the ship,” I nodded, 
still rather breathless. “Let the ray 
men cover our retreat; we can take 
care of those between us and the 
ship with our pistols — and the Er- 
tak’s projectors will attend to our 
flanks. On the double, men!” 

We fought every step of the 
way, in a fog of reddish dust from 
the big disintegrator rays playing 
on either side of us — but we made 
it, a torn, weary, and bedraggled 
crew. 

“Quite an engagement, sir,” 
gasped Correy, when we were safely 
inside the Ertak. “Think they’ll 
remember this little visit of ours, 
sir?” 

“I know we’ll remember it, any- 
way,” I said, shaking some of the 
dust of disintegration from my 
clothes. “Just at the moment, I’d 
welcome a tour of routine patrol.” 

“Sure, sir,” grinned Correy. “So 
would I — until we were a day or 
two out from Base!” 



A Plane for the Antarctic 



A n airplane of unusual design 
and power has recently been 
completed for Lincoln Ellsworth 
by Jack Northrop, creator of the 
machine which Carl Ben Eielson 
and Sir Hubert Wilkins piloted 
over the North Pole. This new 
plane will be used by Ellsworth on 
an expedition which is expected to 
yield whatiias been termed the last 
great geographical discovery possi- 
ble in the Antarctic. 

It is planned to avoid the South 
Pole proper, the course having been 
calculated to pass 400 miles dis- 
tant. However, in the 3,000-mile 
hop from Ross Sea to Weddell Sea 
and return, all but possibly 300 
miles will be over territory never 
before reviewed by man. It is 
believed that it will be safe to land 
at any desired point on this jour- 
ney with perfect safety on account 
of the newly devised flap gear vnth 
which the plane is equipped. 

This flap gear is a movable por- 
tion of a wing section which may 
be operated at all times by the 
pilot. When not in use under 
special conditions, such as in a 
quick take-off or a slow landing, 
the flap gear folds into the wing 
proper and forms a part of the wing 
surface near to and attached to the 
trailing surface of the wing. The 
flap gear is controlled by wind- 
ing a threaded gear in the cockpit. 
When in use it swings outward like 
the cover of a book causing drag 
and increased lift, both of which re- 
tard the forvv^ard motion of the 
machine. Floating ailerons, small 
control wings attached to the rear 
top of the large wings, are nec- 
essary for control in normal i.ight. 

The over-all size of the airplane 
is not large. It is low-winged in 
type and measures only forty-eight 
feet in width and thirty-one feet in 
length, and when empty weighs 
3,200 lbs. The appearance is char- 
acterized by power and strength. 



The construction is metal through- 
out. The wheeled under-carriage is 
practically concealed in streamlin- 
ing, only a small surface of rubber 
appearing where the wheels rest on 
the ground. When in the Arctic 
regions, skis will be substituted for 
this landing gear. The cockpit is 
glassed in, and this section is car- 
ried around the, sides past the navi- 
gator’s seat, which is directly be- 
hind the pilot with whom he is at 
all times in direct communication. 
The streamlining is carried right 
through to the tail. 

The casual observer might not no- 
tice that the plane has one feature 
which is asymetrical. While every 
line and surface of this superplane 
suggests harmony and balance, the 
vertical fin is slightly twisted to 
one side. This is to correct for the 
torque and drag of the propeller 
and slipstream caused by the sturdy 
500-horsepower Wasp engine in 
flight. Although no flying is ex- 
pected in adverse weather, all pos- 
sible aids to safe navigation and 
blind flying are included in the 
equipment. These include a Sperry 
gyro, an artificial horizon swing, 
visible indication of the angle of 
the ship in flight and an inclinome- 
ter and rate-of-climb instrument 
which also indicates wing-dip. Of 
course the regular instruments for 
normal speed and temperature re- 
cording, oil pressure and gas con- 
sumption gauges, rev. counters, etc., 
are also included. By the use of the 
equipment it should be possible to 
fly the ship entirely blind. 

Blind flying may be a part of the 
testing exercises through which the 
ship must be put before the Antarc- 
tic trip, but weather in those climes 
is usually such that if conditions 
are suitable for exploration, fly- 
ing would not be undertaken at all. 
There are no halfway points be- 
tween clement and very hostile 
weather. 

99 



Wanderer of Infinity 

By Harl Vincent 



L ENVILLE! Bert Redmond 
had never heard of the place 
until he received Joan’s let- 
ter. But here it was, a tiny 
straggling village cuddled amongst 
the Ramapo hills of lower New 
York State, only a few miles from 
Tuxedo. There was a prim, white- 
painted church, a general store 
with the inevitable gasoline pump 
at the curb, and a dozen or so of 
weatherbeaten frame houses. That 
was all. It was a typical, dusty cross- 
roads hamlet of the vintage of thirty 
years before, utterly isolated and 
apart from the 
rushing life of the 
broad concrete 
highway so short 
a distance away. 

Bert stopped his ancient and bat- 
tered flivver at the corner where a 
group of overalled loungers was 
gathered. Its asthmatic motor died 
with a despairing cough as he cut 
the ignition. 

“Anyone tell me where to find 
the Carmody place?” he sang out. 

No one answered, and for a 
moment there was no movement 
amongst his listeners. Then one of 
the loungers, an old man with a 
stubble of gray beard, drew near 
and regarded him through thick 
spectacles. 

“You ain’t aimin’ to go up there 
alone, be you?” the old fellow asked 
in a thin cracked voice. 

“Certainly. Why?” Bert caught a 



peculiar gleam in the watery old 
eyes that were enlarged so enor- 
mously by the thick lenses. It was 
fear of the supernatural that lurked 
there, stark terror, almost. 

“Don’t you go up to the Carmody 
place, young feller. They’s queer 
doin’s in the big house, is why. Blue 
lights at night, an’ noises inside — 
an’ — an’ cracklin’ like thunder over- 
head — ” 

“Aw shet up, Gramp!” Another of 
the idlers, a youngster with chubby 
features, and downy of lip and chin, 
sauntered over from the group, in- 
terrupting the old 
man’s discourse. 
“Don’t listen to 
him,” he said to 
Bert. “He’s 
cracked a mite — been seein’ things. 
The big house is up yonder on the 
hill. See, with the red chimbley 
showin’ through the trees. They’s a 
windin’ road down here a piece.” 

Bert followed the pointing finger 
with suddenly anxious gaze. It was 
not an inviting spot, that tangle of 
second-growth timber and under- 
brush that hid the big house on the 
lonely hillside; it might conceal al- 
most anything. And Joan Parker 
was there! 

The one called Gramp was 
screeching invectives at the grin- 
ning bystanders. “You passel o’ 
young idjits!” he stormed. “I seen 
it, I tell you. An’ — an’ heard things, 
too. The devil hisself is up there — 



In the uncharted realms of infra- 
dimensional space Bert meets a 
pathetic figure — the Wanderer. 




an’ his imps. We’d oughtn’t to let 
this feller go. . . .” 

Bert waited to hear no more. 
Unreasoning fear came to him that 
something was very much amiss up 
there at the big house, and he 
started the flivver with a thunder- 
ous barrage of its exhaust. 

The words of Joan’s note were 
vivid in his mind: “Come to me, 
Bert, at the Carmody place in Len- 
ville. Believe me, I need you.” Only 
that, but it had been sufficient to 
bring young Redmond across three 
states to this measly town that 
wasn’t even on the road maps. 

Bert yanked the bouncing car 
into the winding road that led up 
the hill, and thought grimly of the 
quirrel with Joan two years before. 
He had told her then, arrogantly, 
that she’d need him some day. But 
now that his words bad proved 

101 



He attacked 
it in vain 
with his fists. 



true the fact brought him no con- 
solation nor the slightest elation. 
Joan was there in this lonely spot, 
and she did need him. That was 
enough; 

He ran nervous fingers through 
his already tousled mop of sandy 
hair — a habit he had when disturbed 
— and nearly wrecked the car on 
a graj? boulder that encroached on 
one of the two ruts which, to- 
gether, had been termed a road. 

Stupid, that quarrel of theirs. 
And how stubborn both had been! 
Joan had insisted on going to the 
big city to follow the career her 




ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



jo;? 

brother had chosen for her. Chem- 
istry, biology, laboratory work! 
Bert sniffed, even now. But he had 
been equally stubborn in his in- 
sistence that she marry him instead 
and settle down on the middle- 
Western fruit farm. 

With a sudden twist, the road 
turned in at the entrance of a 
sadly neglected estate. The grounds 
of the place were overrun with rank 
growths and the driveway was cov- 
ered with weeds. The tumble-down 
gables of a descrepit frame house 
peeped out through the trees. It 
was a rambling old building that 
once had been a mansion — ^^the “big 
house” of the natives. A musty air 
of decay was upon it, and crazily 
askew window shutters proclaimed 
deep-shrouded’ mystery within. 

Bert drew up at the rickety porch 
and stopped the flivver with its 
usual shuddering jerk. 

A S if his coming had been 
watched for through the 
stained glass of its windows, the 
door was flung violently open. A 
white-clad figure darted across the 
porch, but not before Bert had 
untangled the lean six feet of him 
from under the flivver’s wheel and 
bounded up the steps. 

“Joan!” 

“Bert! I — I’m sorry.” 

“Me too.” Swallowing hard, Bert 
Redmond held her close. 

“But I won’t go back to Indiana!” 
The girl raised her chin and the 
old defiance v/as in her tearful gaze. 

Bert stared. Joan was white and 
wan, a mere shadow of her old self. 
And she was trembling, hysterical. 

“That’s all right,” he whispered. 
“But tell me now, what is it? 
What’s wrong?” 

With sudden vigor she was draw- 
ing him into the house. “It’s Tom,” 
she quavered. “I can’t do' a thing 
with him; can’t get him to leave 
here. And something terrible is 
about to happen, I know. I thought 



perhaps you could help, even if—” 
“Tom Parker here?” Bert was 
surprised that the fastidious older 
brother should leave his comfortable 
city quarters and lose himself in 
this God-forsaken place. “Sure, I’ll 
help, dear — if I can.” 

“You can; oh. I’m sure you can,” 
the girl went on tremulously. A 
spot of color flared in either cheek. 
“It’s his experiments. He came over 
from New York about a year ago 
and rented this old house. The city 
laboratory wasn’t secluded enough. 
And I’ve helped him until now 
in everything. But I’m frightened; 
he’s playing with dangerous forces. 
He doesn’t understand — won’t un- 
derstand. But I saw. . . .” 

And then Joan Parker slumped 
into a high-backed chair that stood 
in the ancient paneled hall. Soft 
waves of her chestnut hair framed 
the pinched, terrified face, and wide 
eyes looked up at Bert with the 
same horror he had seen in those 
of the old fellow in the village. A 
surge of the old tenderness welled 
up in him and he wanted to take 
her in his arms. 

“Wait,” she said, swiftly rising. 
“I’ll let you judge for yourself. 
Here — go into the laboratory and 
talk with Tom.” 

She pushed him forward and 
through a door that closed softly 
behind him. He was in a large room 
that was cluttered with the most 
bewildering array of electrical 
mechanisms he had ever seen. Joan 
had remained outside. 

T om PARKER, his hair grayer 
and forehead higher than when 
Bert had seen him last, rose from 
where he was stooping over a work 
bench. He advanced, smiling, and 
his black eyes were alight with 
genuine pleasure. Bert had antici- 
pated a less cordial welcome, 
“Albert Redmond!” exclaimed the 
older man. “This is a surprise, Glaid 
to see you, boy, glad to see you.” 



WANDERER OF INFINITY 



He meant it, Tbm did, and Bert 
v/rung the extended hand heartily. 
Yet he dared not tell of Joan’s note. 
The two men had always been the 
very best of friends — except in the 
matter of Joan’s future. 

“You haven’t changed much,” Bert 
ventured. 

Tom Parker laughed. “Not about 
Joan, if that is what you mean. 
She likes the work and will go 
far in it. Why, Bert — ” 

“Sa-ay, wait a minute.” Bert Red- 
mond’s mien was solemn. “I saw 
her outside, Tom, and was shocked. 
She insn’t herself — doesn’t look at 
all well. Haven’t you noticed, man?” 
The older man sobered and a 
puzzled frown creased his brow. “I 
have noticed, yes. But it’s non- 
sense, Bert, I swear it is. She has 
been having dreams — worrying a 
lot, it seems. Guess I’ll have to send 
her to the doctor?” 

“Dreams? Worry?” Bert thought 
of the old man called Gramp. 

“Yes. I’ll tell you all about it — 
what we’re working on here — and 
show you. It’s no wonder she gets 
that way, I guess. I’ve been a bit 
loony with the marvel of it myself 
at times. Come here.” 

Tom led him to an intricate ap- 
paratus which bore some resem- 
blance to a television radio. There 
were countless vacuum tubes and 
their controls, tiny motors belted 
to slotted disks that would spin 
when power was applied, and a 
double eyepiece. 

“Before I let you look,” Tom was 
saying, “I’ll give you an idea of 
it, to prepare you. 'This is a mecha- 
nism I’ve developed for a study of 
the less-understood dimensions. The 
results have more than justified my 
expectations — they’re astounding. 

Bert, we can actually see into these 
realms that were hitherto unex- 
plored. V/e can examine at close 
range the life of these other planes. 
Think of it!” 

“Life — planes — dimensions?” said 



103 . 

Bert blankly. “Remember, I know 
very little about this science of 
yours.” 

“TJ AVEN’T you read the news- 
X jL paper accounts of Einstein’s 
researches and of others who have 
delved into the theory of relativ- 
ity?” 

“Sa-ay! I read them, but they 
don’t tell me a thing. It’s over my 
head a mile.” 

“Well, listen: this universe of 
ours — space and all it contains — is 
a thing of five dimensions, a con- 
tinuum we have never begun to 
contemplate in its true complexity 
and im.mensity. There are three of 
its dimensions with which we are 
familiar. Our normal senses per- 
ceive and understand them — length, 
breadth and thickness. The fourth 
dimension, time, or, more properly, 
the time-space interval, we have 
only recently understood. And this 
fifth dimension, Bert, is something 
no man on earth has delved into — 
excepting myself.” 

“You don’t say.” Bert was prop- 
erly impressed; the old gleam of 
the enthusiastic scientist was in 
Tom’s keen eyes, 

“Surest thing. I have called this 
fifth dimension the interval of • 
oscillation, though the term is not 
precisely correct. It has to do with 
the arrangement, the speed and di- 
rection of movement, and the 
polarity of protonic and electronic 
energy charges of which matter is 
comprised. It upsets some of our 
old and accepted natural laws — one 
in particular. Bert, two objects can 
occupy the same space at the same 
time, though only one is percep- 
tible to our earthbound senses. Their 
differently constituted atoms exist 
in the same location without in- 
terference — merely vibrating in dif- 
ferent planes. There are many such 
planes in this fifth dimension of 
space, all around us, some actually 
inhabited. Each plane has a differ- 



104 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



ent atomic structure of matter, its 
own oscillation interval of the 
energy that is matter, and a set of 
natural laws peculiar to itself. I 
can’t begin to tell you; in fact, I’ve 
explored only a fraction. But here — 
look!” 

T OM’S instrument set up a soft 
purring at his touch of a lever, 
and eery blue light flickered from 
behind the double eyepiece, casting 
grotesque shadows on walls and 
ceiling, and paling to insignificance 
the light of day that filtered through 
the long-unwashed windows. 

Bert squinted through the hooded 
twin lenses. At first he was dazzled 
and confused by the rapidly whirl- 
ing light-images, but these quickly 
resolved into geometric figures, an 
inconceivable number of them, ex- 
tending off into limitless space in 
a huge arc, revolving and tumbling 
like the colored particles in an old- 
fashioned kaleidoscope. Cubes, pyr- 
amids and cones of variegated hues. 
Swift-rushing spheres and long slim 
cylinders of brilliant blue-white^ 
gleaming disks of polished jet, 
spinning. . . . 

Abruptly the view stabilized, and 
clear-cut stationary objects sprang 
into being. An unbroken vista of 
seamed chalky cliffs beside an inky 
sea whose waters rose and fell 
rhythmically yet did not break 
against the towering palisade. Wave- 
less, glass-smooth, these waters. A 
huge blood-red sun hanging low in 
a leaden though cloudless sky, re- 
flecting scintillating flecks of gold 
and purple brilliance from the 
ocean’s black surface. 

At first there was no sign of life 
to be seen. Then a mound was 
rising up from the sea near the 
cliff, a huge tortoiselike shape that 
stretched forth several flat members 
which adhered to the vertical white 
wall as if held by suction disks. 
Ponderously the thing turned over 
and headed up from the inky 



depths, spewing out from its con- 
cave under side an army of furry 
brown bipeds. Creatures with bloated 
torsos in which head and body 
merged so closely as to be indis- 
tinguishable one from the other, 
balanced precariously on two spind- 
ly legs, and with long thin arms 
like tentacles, waving and coiling. 
Spiderlike beings ran out over the 
smooth dark surface of the sea as 
if it were solid ground. 

UPITER!” Bert looked up from 
the eyepiece, blinking into the 
triumphant grinning face of Tom 
Parker. “You mean to tell me these 
creatures are real?” he demanded. 
“Living here, all around us, in an- 
other plane where we can’t see 
them without this machine of 
yours?” 

“Surest thing. And this is but 
one of many such planes.” 

“They can’t get through, to our 
plane?” 

“Lord no, man, how could they?” 

A sharp crackling peal of thunder 
rang out overhead and Tom Parker 
went suddenly white. Outside, the 
sky was cloudless. 

“And that — what’s that?” Bert 
remembered the warning of the old 
man of the village, and Joan’s ob- 
vious fear. 

“It — it’s only a physical manifes- 
tation of the forces I use in ob- 
taining visual connection, one of 
the things that worries Joan. Yet 
I can’t find any cause for alarm. . . .” 

The scientist’s voice droned on 
endlessly, technically. But Bert 
knew there was something Tom 
did not understand, something he 
was trying desperately to explain 
to himself. 

Thunder rumbled once more, and 
Bert returned his eyes to the instru- 
ment. Directly before him in the 
field of vision a group of the spider 
men advanced over the pitchy sea 
with a curiously constructed cage 
of woven transparent material 




105 



WANDERER OF INFINITY 



which they set down at a point so 
close by that it seemed he could 
touch it if he stretched out his 
hand. The illusion of physical near- 
ness was perfect. The evil eyes of 
the creatures were fastened upon 
him; tentacle arms uncoiled and 
reached forth as if to break down 
the barrier that separated them. 

And then a scream penetrated his 
consciousness, wrenching him back 
to consideration of his immediate 
surroundings. The laboratory door 
burst open and Joan, pale and 
disheveled, dashed into the room. 

T om shouted, running forward 
to intercept her, and Bert saw 
what he had not seen before, a 
ten-foot circle of blue-white metal 
set in the floor and illuminated by 
a shaft of light from a reflector on 
the ceiling above Tom’s machine. 

“Joan — the force area!” Tom was 
yelling. “Keep away!” 

Tom had reached the distraught 
girl and was struggling with her 
over on the far side of the disk. 

There came a throbbing of the 
very air surrounding them, and Bert 
saw Tom and Joan on the other 
side of the force area, their white 
faces indistinct and wavering as if 
blurred by heat waves rising be- 
tween. The rumblings and crack- 
lings overhead increased in in- 
tensity until the old house swayed 
and creaked with the concussions. 
Hazy forms materialized on the. 
lighted disk — ^the cage of the tran- 
sparent, woven basket — dark spidery 
forms within. The creatures from 
that other plane! 

“Joan! Tom!” Bert’s voice was 
soundless as he tried to shout, and 
his muscles were paralyzed when 
he attempted to hurl himself across 
to them. The blue-white light had 
spread and formed a huge bubble 
of white brilliance, a transparent 
elastic solid that flung him back 
when he attacked it in vain with 
his fists. 



Within its confines he saw Joan 
and her brother scuffling with the 
spider men, tearing at the tentacle 
arms that encircled them and drew 
them relentlessly into the basket- 
weave cage. There was a tremen- 
dous thump and the warping of 
the very universe about them all. 
Bert Redmond, his body racked by 
insupportable tortures, was hurled 
into the black abyss of infinity. . . . 
I*! ^ * 

T his was not death, nor was it 
a dream from which he would 
awaken. After that moment of 
mental agony and ghastly physical 
pain, after a dizzying rush through 
inky nothingness, Bert knew sud- 
denly that he was very much alive. 
If he had lost consciousness at all, 
it had been for no great length of 
time. And yet there was this sense 
of strangeness in his surroundings, 
a feeling that he had been trans- 
ported over some nameless gulf of 
space. He had dropped to his knees, 
but with the swift return of normal 
faculties he jumped to his feet. 

A tall stranger confronted him, 
a half-nude giant with bronzed skin 
and of solemn visage. The stalwart 
build of him and the smooth con- 
tours of cheek and jaw proclaimed 
him a man not yet past middle age, 
but his uncropped hair was white 
as the driven snow. 

They stood in a spherical cham- 
ber of silvery metal, Bert and this 
giant, and the gentle vibration of 
delicately balanced machinery made 
itself felt in the structure. Of Joan 
and Tom there was no sign, 
“Where am I?” Bert demanded. 
“And where are my friends? Why 
am I with you, without them?” 
Compassion was in the tall stran- 
ger’s gaze — and something more. 
The pain of a great sorrow filled 
the brown eyes that looked down 
at Bert, and resignation to a fate 
that was shrouded in ineffable 
mystery. 

“Trust me,” he said in a mellow 



106 



ASTOUIJDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



slurring voice. “Where you are, you 
shall soon learn. You are safe. 
And your friends will be located.” 
“Will be located ! Don’t you know 
where they are?” Bert laid hands 
on the big man’s wrists and shook 
him impatiently. The stranger was 
too calm and unmoved in the face 
of this tremendous thing which had 
come to pass. 

“I know where they have been 
taken, yes. But there is no need of 
haste out here in infra-dimensional 
space, for time stands still. We 
will find it a simple matter to 
reach the plane of their captors, 
the Bardeks, within a few seconds 
after your friends arrive there. My 
plane segregator — ^this sphere — will 
accomplish this in due season.” 

S TRANGELY, Bert believed him. 

This talk of dimensions and 
planes and of the halting of time 
was incomprehensible, but somehow 
there was communicated to his own 
restless nature something of the 
placid serenity of the white-haired 
stranger. He regarded the man more 
closely, saw there was an alien look 
about him that marked him as 
different and apart from the men 
of Earth. His sole garment was a 
wide breech clout of silvery stuff 
that glinted with changing colors — 
hues foreign to nature on Earth. 
His was a superhuman perfection 
of muscular development, and there 
was an indescribable mingling of 
gentleness and sternness in his 
demeanor. With a start, Bert noted 
that his fingers were webbed, as 
were his toes. 

“Sa-ay,” Bert exclaimed, “who 
are you, an3rway?” 

The stranger permitted himself 
the merest ghost of a smile. “You 
may call me Wanderer,” he said. 
“I am the Wanderer of Infinity.” 
“Infinity! You are not of my 
world?” 

“But no.” 

“You speak my language.” 



“It is one of many with which I 
am familiar.” 

“I — I don’t understand.” Bert 
Redmond was like a man in a 
trance, completely under the spell 
of his amazing host’s personality. 

“It is given to few men to under- 
stand.” The Wanderer fell silent, 
his arms folded across his broad 
chest. And his great shoulders 
bowed as under the weight of cen- 
turies of mankind’s cares. “Yet I 
would have you understand, O Man- 
Called-Bert, for the tale is a strange 
one and is heavy upon me.” 

It was uncanny that this Wan- 
derer should address him by name. 
Bert thrilled to a new sense of 
awe. 

“But,” he objected, “my friends 
are in the hands of the spider men. 
You said we’d go to them. Good 
Lord, man, I’ve got to do it!” 

“You forget that time means 
nothing here. We will go to them 
in precise synchronism with the 
proper time as existent in that 
plane.” 

T he Wanderer’s intense gaze 
held Bert speechless, hypno- 
tized. A swift dimming of the 
sphere’s diffused illumination came 
immediately, and darkness swept 
down like a blanket, thick and 
stifling. This was no ordinary dark- 
ness, but utter absence of light — 
the total obscurity of Erebus. And 
the hidden motors throbbed with 
sudden new vigor. 

“Behold!” At the Wanderer’s ex- 
clamation the enclosing sphere be- 
came transparent and they were in 
the midst of a dizzying maelstrom 
of flashing color. Brilliant geometric 
shapes, there v/ere, whirling off into 
the vastness of space, as Bert had 
seen them in Tom Parker’s instru- 
ment. A gigantic arc of rushing 
light-forms spanning the black gulf 
of an unknown cosmos. And in the 
foreground directly under the 
sphere was a blue-white disk, hori- 



WANDERER OF INFINITY 



m 



zontally fixed— a substantial and 
familiar object, with hazy surround- 
ings likewise familiar. 

“Isn’t that the metal platform in 
my friend’s laboratory?” asked Bert, 
marveling. 

“It is indeed.” The mellow voice 
of the Wanderer was grave, and he 
laid a hand on Bert’s arm. “And 
for so long as it exists it con- 
stitutes a serious menace to your 
civilization. It is a gateway to your 
world, a means of contact with your 
plane of existence for those many 
vicious hordes that dwell in other 
planes of the fifth dimension. With- 
out it, the Bardeks had not been 
able to enter and effect the kid- 
y naping of your friends. Oh, I tried 
so hard to warn them — Parker and 
the girl — but could not do it in 
time.” 

A measure of understanding came 
to Bert Redmond. This was the 
thing Joan had feared and which 
Tom Parker had neglected to con- 
sider. The forces which enabled 
the scientist to see into the mysteri- 
ous planes of this uncharted realm 
were likewise capable of providing 
physical contact between the planes, 
or actual travel from one to the 
other. Tom had not learned how to 
use the forces in this manner, but 
the Bardeks had. 

“TX TE travel now along a dif- 

W ferent set of coordinates, 
those of space-time,” said the Wan- 
derer. “We go into the past, through 
eons of time as it is counted in 
your world.” 

“Into the past,” Bert repeated. He 
stared foolishly at his host, whose 
eyes glittered strangely in the flick- 
ering light. 

“Yes, we go to my home — ^to what 
was my home.” 

“To your home? Why?” Bert 
shrank before the awful contorted 
face of the Wanderer. A spasm of 
ferocity had crossed it on his last 
words. Some fearful secret must 



be gnawing at the big man’s vitals. 

“Again you must trust me. To 
understand, it is necessary that you 
see.” 

The gentle whir of machinery 
rose to a piercing shriek as the 
Wanderer manipulated the tiny 
levers of a control board that was 
set in the smooth transparent wall. 
And the rushing light-forms out- 
side became a blur at first, then a 
solid stream of cold liquid fire into 
which they plunged at breakneck 
speed. 

There was no perceptible mo- 
tion of the sphere, however. It was 
the only object that seemed sub- 
stantial and fixed in an intangible 
and madly gyrating universe. Its 
curved wall, though transparent, was 
solid, comforting to the touch. 

Standing by his instrument board, 
the Wanderer was engrossed in a 
tabulation of mathematical data he 
was apparently using in setting the 
many control knobs before him. 
Plotting their course through in- 
finity! His placid serenity of coun- 
tenance had returned, but there was 
a new eagerness in his intense 
gaze and his strong fingers trembled 
while he manipulated the tiny levers 
and dials. 

O UTSIDE the apparently mo- 
tionless sphere, a never-ending 
riot of color surged swiftly and 
silently by, now swirling violently 
in great sweeping arcs of blinding 
magnificence, now changing charac- 
ter and driving down from dizzy- 
ing heights as a dim-lit column of 
gray that might have been a blast 
of steam from some huge inverted 
geyser of the cosmos. Always there 
were the intermittent black bands 
that flashed swiftly across the 
brightness, momentarily darkening 
the sphere and then passing on 
into the limbo of this strange realm 
between planes. 

Abruptly then, like the turning of 
a page in some gigantic book, the 



108 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



swift-moving phantasmagoria swung 
back into the blackness of the in- 
finite and was gone. Before them 
stretched a landscape of rolling 
hills and fertile valleys. Overhead, 
the skies were a deep blue, almost 
violet, and twin suns shone down 
on the scene. The sphere drifted 
along a few hundred feet from the 
surface. 

“Urtraria!” the Wanderer breathed 
reverently. His white head was 
bowed and his great hands clutched 
the small rail of the control board. 

In a daze of conflicting emotions, 
Bert watched as this land of peace 
and plenty slipped past beneath 
them. This, he knew, had been the 
home of Wanderer. In what past 
age or at how great a distance it 
w’as from his own world, he could 
only imagine. But that the big man 
who called himself Wanderer loved 
this country there was not the 
slightest doubt. It was a fetish 
with him, a past he was in duty 
bound to revisit time and again, and 
to mourn over. 

Smooth broad lakes, there were, 
and glistening streams that ran 
their winding courses through well- 
kept and productive farmlands. And 
scattered communities with orderly 
streets and spacious parks. Roads, 
stretching endless ribbons of wide 
metallic surface across the country- 
side. Long two-wheeled vehicles 
skimming over the roads with speed 
so great the eye could scarcely 
follow them. Flapping-winged ships 
of the air, flying high and low 
in all directions. A great city of 
magnificent dome-topped buildings 
looming up suddenly at the horizon. 

The sphere proceeded swiftly to- 
ward the city. Once a great air 
liner, flapping huge gossamerlike 
wings, drove directly toward them. 
Bert cried out in alarm and ducked 
instinctively, but the ship passed 
through them and on its way. It 
was as if they did not exist in this 
spherical vehicle of the dimensions. 



*‘T "KT^ are here only as on- 

V V lookers,” the Wanderer ex- 
plained sadly, “and can have no 
material existence here. We can 
not enter this plane, for there is no 
gateway. Would that there were.” 

Now they were over the city and 
the sphere came to rest above a 
spacious flat roof where there were 
luxurious gardens and pools, and a 
small glass-domed observatory. A 
woman was seated by one of the 
pools, a beautiful woman with long 
golden hair that fell in soft pro- 
fusion over her ivory shoulders 
and bosom. Two children, hand- 
some stalwart boys of probably 
ten and twelve, romped with a 
domestic animal which resembled a 
foxhound of Earth but had glossy 
short-haired fur and flippers like 
those of a seal. Suddenly these 
three took to the water and splashed 
with much vigor and joyful shout- 
ing. 

The Wanderer gripped Bert’s arm 
with painful force. “My home!” he 
groaned. “Understand, Earthling? 
This was my home, these my wife 
and children — destroyed through 
my folly. Destroyed, I say, in an- 
cient days. And by my accursed 
hand — ^when the metal monsters 
came.” 

There was madness in the Wan^ 
derer’s glassy stare, the madness of 
a tortured soul within. Bert began 
to fear him. 

“We should leave,” he said. “Why 
torment yourself with such memo- 
ries? My friends. ...” 

“Have patience, Earthling. Don’t 
you understand that I sinned and 
am therefore condemned to this 
torment? Can’t you see that I must 
unburden my soul of its ages-old 
load, that I must revisit the scene 
of my crime, that others must see 
and know? It is part of my punish- 
ment, and you, perforce, must bear 
witness. Moreover, it is to help 
your friends and your world that I 
bring you here. Behold!” 



109 



WANDERER OF INFINITY 



A MAN was coining out of the 
observatory, a tall man with 
bronzed skin and raven locks. It 
was the Wanderer himself, the 
Wanderer of the past, as he had 
been in the days of his youth and 
happiness. 

The woman by the pool had risen 
from her seat and was advancing 
eagerly toward her mate. Bert saw 
that the man hardly glanced in her 
direction, so intent was he upon an 
object over which he stood. The 
object was a shimmering bowl some 
eight or ten feet across, which was 
mounted on a tripod near the ob- 
servatory, and over whose metallic 
surface a queer bluish light was 
playing. 

It was a wordless pantomine, the 
ensuing scene, and Bert watched in 
amazement. This woman of another 
race, another age, another plane, 
was pleading with her man. Sobbing 
soundlessly, wretchedly. And the 
man was unheeding, impatient with 
her demonstrations. He shoved her 
aside as she attempted to interfere 
with his manipulations of some 
elaborate mechanical contrivance at 
the side of the bowl. 

And then there was a sudden 
roaring vibration, a flash of light 
leaping from the bowl, and the 
materilization of a spherical vessel 
that swallowed up the man and 
vanished in the shaft of light like 
a moth in the flame of a candle. 

At Bert’s side, the Wanderer 
was a grim and silent figure, misty 
and unreal when compared with 
those material, emotion-torn beings 
of the rooftop. The woman, swoon- 
ing, had wilted over the rim of the 
bowl, and the two boys with their 
strange amphibious pet splashed 
out from the pool and came run- 
ning to her, wide-eyed and drip- 
ping. 

The Wanderer touched a lever 
and again there was the sensation 
as of a great page turned across 
the vastness of the universe. All 



was hazy and indistinct outside the 
sphere that held them, with a rush- 
ing blur of dimly gray light-forms. 
Beneath them remained only the 
bright outline of the bowl, an ob- 
ject distinct and real and fixed in 
space. 

“It was thus I left my loved 
ones,” the Wanderer said hollowly. 
“In fanatical devotion to my science, 
but in blind disregard of those 
things which really mattered. Ob- 
serve, O Man-Called-Bert, that the 
bowl is still existent in infra-dimen- 
sional space — ^the gateway I left 
open to Urtraria. So it remained 
while I, fool that I was, explored 
those planes of the fifth dimension 
that were all around us though we 
saw and felt them not. Only I had 
seen, even as your friend Tom 
has seen. And, like him, I heeded 
not the menace of the things I had 
witnessed. We go now to the plane 
of the metal monsters. Behold!” 

T he sphere shuddred to the in- 
creased power of its hidden 
motors and another huge page 
seemed to turn slowly over, lurch- 
ing sickeningly as it came to rest 
in the new and material plane of 
existence. Here, Bert understood 
now, the structure of matter was 
entirely different. Atoms were com- 
prised of protons and electrons 
whirling at different velocities and 
in different orbits — possibly some 
of the electrons in reverse direc- 
tion to those of the atomic struc- 
ture of matter in Urtraria. And 
these coexisted with those others in 
the same relative position in time 
and in space. Ages before, the 
thing had happened, and he was 
seeing it now. 

They were in the midst of a 
forest of conical spires whose sides 
were of dark glittering stuff that 
reminded Bert of the crystals of 
carborundum before pulverizing for 
commercial use. A myriad of deep 
colors were reflected from the 



no 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



sharply pointed piles in the light 
of a great cold moon that hung 
low in the heavens above them. 

In the half light down there 
between the circular bases of the 
cones, weird creatures were moving. 
Like great earthworms they moved, 
sluggishly and with writhing con- 
tortions of their many-jointed 
bodies. Long cylindrical things with 
glistening gray hide like armor 
plate and with fearsome heads that 
reared upward occasionally to re- 
veal the single flaming eye and mas- 
sive iron jaws each contained. There 
were riveted joints and levers, 
wheels and gears that moved as the 
creatures moved; darting lights that 
flashed forth from trunnion-mounted 
cases like the searchlights of a 
battleship of Earth; great swiveled 
arms with grappling hooks attached. 
They were mechanical contrivances 
— the metal monsters of which the 
Wanderer had spoken. Whether 
their brains were comprised of ac- 
tive living cells or whether they 
were cold, calculating machines of 
metallic parts, Bert was never to 
know. 

“See, the gateway,” the Wanderer 
was saying. “They are investigating. 
It is the beginning of the end of 
Urtraria — all as it occurred in the 
dim and distant past.” 

He gripped Bert's arm, pointing 
a trembling finger, and his face was 
a terrible thing to see in the eery 
light of their sphere. 

A SHARPLY outlined circle of 
blue-white appeared down there 
in the midst of the squirming 
monsters. The sphere drifted lower 
and Bert was able to see that a 
complicated machine was being 
trundled out from an arched door- 
way in the base of one of the 
conical dwellings. It was moved to 
the edge of the light circle which 
was the bowl on that rooftop of 
Urtraria. The same bowl! A force 
area like that used by Tom Parker, 



an area existent in many planes 
of the fifth dimension simultane- 
ously, an area where the various 
components of wave motion merged 
and became as one. The gateway 
betv/een planes! 

The machine of the metal mon- 
sters was provided with a huge 
lens and a reflector, and these were 
trained on the bowl. Wheels and 
levers of the machine moved swift- 
ly. There came an orange light 
from 'within that was focused upon 
lens and reflector to strike down 
and mingle with the cold light of 
the bowl. A startling transforma- 
tion ensued, for the entire area 
within view was encompassed with 
a milky diffused brightness in which 
two worlds seemed to intermingle 
and fuse. There were the rooftops 
of the city in Urtraria and its 
magnificent domes, a transparent 
yet substantial reality superimposed 
upon the gloomy city of cones of 
the metal monsters. 

“Jupiter!” Bert breathed. “They’re 
going through!” 

“They are. Earthling. More ac- 
curately, they did — ^thousands of 
them; millions.” Even as the Wan- 
derer spoke, the metal monsters 
were wriggling through between 
the two planes, their enormous 
bodies moving with menacing de- 
liberation. 

On the rooftops back in Urtraria 
could be seen the frantic fleeing 
forms of humanlike beings — ^the 
Wanderer’s people. 

There was a sharp click from the 
control panel and the scene was 
blotted out by the familiar maze of 
geometric shapes, the whirling, 
dancing light-forms that rushed 
madly past over the vast arch which 
spanned infinity. 

THERE were you at the 

V V time?” asked Bert. Awed 
by v/hat he had seen and with pity 
in his heart for the man who had 
unwittingly let loose the horde of 



WANDERER OF INFINITY 



111 



metal monsters on his own loved 
ones and his own land, he stared 
at the Wanderer. 

The big man was standing with 
face averted, hands clutching the 
rail of the control panel desperately. 
“I?” he whispered. “I was roaming 
the planes, exploring, experiment- 
ing, immersed in the pursuits that 
went with my insatiable thirst for 
scientific data and the broadening 
of my knowledge of this complex 
universe of ours. Forgetting my 
responsibilities. Unknowing, unsus- 
pecting.” 

“You returned — to your home?” 

“Too late I returned. You shall 
see; we return now by the same 
route I then followed.” 

“No!” Bert shouted, suddenly 
panicky at thought of what might 
be happening to Joan and Tom in 
the land of the Bardeks. “No, Wan- 
derer — tell me, but don’t show me. 
I can imagine. Seeing those loath- 
some big worms of iron and steel, 
I can well visualize what they did. 
Come now, have a heart, man; take 
me to my friends before. . . 

“Ah-h!” The Wanderer looked up 
and a benign look came to take the 
place of the pain and horror which 
had contorted his features. “It is 
well, O Man-Called-Bert. I shall do 
as you request, for I now see that 
my mission has been well accom- 
plished. We go to your friends, and 
fear you not that we shall arrive 
too late.” 

“Your — your mission?” Bert 

calmed immediately under the spell 
of the Wanderer’s new mood. 

“My mission throughout eternity, 
Earthling — can’t you sense it? For- 
ever and ever I shall roam infra- 
dimensional space, watching and 
waiting for evidence that a similar 
catastrophe might be visited on an- 
other land where warm-blooded 
thinking humans of similar mold to 
my own may be living out their 
short lives of happiness or near- 
happiness. Never again shall so 



great a calamity come to mankind 
anywhere if it be within the Wan- 
derer’s power to prevent it. And 
that is why I snatched you up from 
your friend’s laboratory. That is 
why I have shown to you the — ” 

“Me, why me?” Bert exclaimed. 

“Attend, O Earthling, and you 
shall hear.” 

The mysterious intangibilities of 
the cosmos whirled by unheeded by 
either as the Wanderer’s tale un- 
folded. 

HEN I returned,” he said, 
“the gateway was closed 
forever. I could not reenter my own 
plane of existence. The metal mon- 
sters had taken possession; they 
had found a better and richer land 
than their own, and when they had 
completed their migration they de- 
stroyed the generator of my force 
area. They had shut me out; but I 
could visit Urtraria — as an outsider, 
as a wraith — and I saw what they 
had done. I saw the desolation and 
the blackness of my once fair land. 
I saw that — that none of my own 
kind remained. All, all were gone. 

“For a time my reason deserted 
me and I roamed infra-dimensional 
space a madman, self-condemned to 
the outer realms where there is no 
real material existence, no human 
companionship, no love, no comfort. 
When reason returned, I set myself 
to the task of visiting other planes 
where beings of my own kind might 
be found and I soon learned that 
it was impossible to do this in the 
body. To these people I was a 
ghostly visitant, if they sensed my 
presence at all, for my roamings 
between planes had altered the 
characteristics of atomic structure 
of my being. I could no longer 
adapt myself to material existence 
in these planes of the fifth dimen- 
sion. The orbits of electrons in the 
atoms comprising my substance had 
become fixed in a new and outcast 
oscillation interval. I had remained 




112 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



away too long, I was an outcast, a 
wanderer — ^the Wanderer of In- 
finity.” 

There was silence in the sphere 
for a space, save only for the gentle 
whirring of the motors. Then the 
Wanderer continued: 

“Nevertheless, I roamed these 
planes as a nonexistent visitor in 
so far as their peoples were con- 
cerned. I learned their languages 
and came to think of them as my 
own, and I found that many of 
their scientific workers were ex- 
perimenting along lines similar to 
those which had brought disaster 
to Urtraria. I swore a mighty oath 
to spend my lifetime in warning 
them, in warding off a repetition of 
so terrible a mistake as I had made. 
On several occasions I have suc- 
ceeded. 

“And then I found that my life- 
time was to be for all eternity. In 
the outer realms time stands still, 
as I have told you, and in the plane 
of existence which was now mine — 
an extra-material plane — I had no 
prospect of aging or of death. My 
vow, therefore, is for so long as our 
universe may endure instead of for 
merely a lifetime. For this I am 
duly thankful, for I shall miss noth- 
ing until the end of time. 

“ TT VISITED planes v/here other 

^ monsters, as clever and as vici- 
ous as the metal ones who devas- 
tated Urtraria, were bending every 
effort of their sciences toward ob- 
taining actual contact with other 
planes of the fifth dimension. And 
I learned that such contact was ut- 
terly impossible of attainment with- 
out a gateway in the realm to which 
they wished to pass — a gateway 
such as I had provided for the metal 
monsters and such as that which 
your friend Tom Parker has pro- 
vided for the Bardeks, or spider 
men, as you term them. 

“In intra-dimensional space I saw 
the glow of Tom Parker’s force area 



and I made my way to your world 
quickly. But Tom could not get my 
warning : he was too stubbornly and 
deeply engrossed in the work he 
was engaged in. The girl Joan was 
slightly more susceptible, and I be- 
lieve she was beginning to sense my 
telepathic messages when she sent 
for you. Still and all, I had begun 
to give up hope when you came on 
the scene. I took you away just as 
the spider men succeeded in captur- 
ing your friends, and now my hope 
has revived. I feel sure that my 
warning shall not have been in 
vain.” 

“But,” objected Bert, “you’ve 
v/arned me, not the scientist of my 
world who is able to prevent the 
thing — ” 

“Yes, you,” the Wanderer broke 
in. “It is better so. This Tom Parker 
is a zealot even as was I — a man of 
science thinking only of his own 
discoveries. I am not sure he would 
discontinue his experiments even 
were he to receive my warning in 
all its horrible details. But you, O 
Man-Called-Bert, through your love 
of his sister and by your influence 
over him, will be able to do what I 
can not do myself : bring about the 
destruction of this apparatus of his; 
impress upon him the grave neces- 
sity of discontinuing his investiga- 
tions. You can do it, and you alone, 
now that you fully understand.” 

“Sa-ay! You’re putting it up to 
me entirely?” 

“Nearly so, and there is no al- 
ternative. I believe I have not mis- 
judged you; you will not fail, of 
that I am certain. For the sake of 
your own kind, for the love of Joan 
Parker — you will not fail. And for 
me — for this small measure of atone- 
ment it is permitted that I make or 
help to make possible — ” 

“No, I’ll not fail. Take me to 
them, quick.” Bert grinned under- 
standingly as the Wanderer straight- 
ened his broad shoulders and ex- 
tended his hand. 



WANDERER OF INFINITY 



113 



There was no lack of substantial- 
ity in the mighty grip of those clos- 
ing fingers. 

A gain the sphere’s invisible 
motors increased speed, and 
again the dizzying kaleidoscope of 
color swept past them more furi- 
ously. 

“We will now overtake them — 
your friends,” said the Wanderer, 
“in the very act of passing between 
planes.” 

“Overtake them. , . Bert mum- 
bled. “I don’t get it at all, this time 
traveling. It’s over my head a mile.” 
“It isn’t time travel really,” ex- 
plained the Wanderer. “We are 
merely closing up the time-space 
interval, moving to the precise spot 
in the universe where your friend’s 
laboratory existed at the moment of 
contact between planes with your 
world and that of the Bardeks. We 
shall reach there a few seconds after 
the actual capture.” 

“No chance of missing?” Bert 
watched the Wanderer as he con- 
sulted his mathematical data and 
made new adjustments of the con- 
trols. 

“Not the slightest ; it is calculated 
to a nicety. We could, if we wished, 
stop just short of the exact time 
and would see the reoccurrence of 
their capture. But only as unseen 
observers— you can not enter the 
plane as a material being during 
your own actual past, for your en- 
tity would then be duplicated. Of 
course, I can not enter in any case. 
But, moving on to the instant after 
the event, as we shall do, you may 
enter either plane as a material be- 
ing or move between the two planes 
at will by means of the gateway 
provided by Tom Parker’s force 
area. Do you not now understand 
the manner in which you will be 
enabled to carry out the required 
procedure?” 

“H-hm!" Bert wasn’t sure at all. 
“But this moving through time,” he 



asked helplessly, “and the change 
from one plane of oscillation to 
another — they’re all mixed up — 
what have they to do with each 
other?” 

“All five dimensions of our uni- 
verse are definitely interrelated and 
dependent one upon the other for 
the existence of matter in any form 
whatsoever. You see — but here we 
are.” 

T he motors slowed down and a 
titanic page seemed to turn 
over in the cosmos with a vanishing 
blaze of magnificence. Directly be- 
neath them glowed the disk of blue- 
, white light that v/as Tom’s force 
area. The sphere swooped down 
within its influence and came to 
rest. 

“Make haste,” the Wanderer said. 
“I shall be here in the gateway 
though you see me not. Bring them 
here, speedily.” 

On the one side Bert saw familiar 
objects in Tom’s laboratory, on the 
other side the white cliff and the 
pitchy sea of the Bardek realm. 
And the cage of basket-weave be- 
tween, with his friends inside strug- 
gling with the spider men. It was 
the instant after the capture. 

“Joan! Tom!” Bert shouted. 

A side of the sphere had opened 
and he plunged through and into 
the Bardek plane — to the inky sur- 
face of the sea, fully expecting to 
sink in its forbidding depths. But 
the stuff was an elastic solid, 
springy under his feet and bearing 
him up as would an air-inflated 
cushion. He threw himself upon the 
cage and tore at it with his fingers. 

The whimpering screams of the 
spider men were in his ears, and he 
saw from the corner of his eye that 
other -of the tortoiseli'ke mounds 
were rising up out of the viscid 
black depths, dozens of them, and 
that hundreds of the Bardeks were 
closing in on him from all direc- 
tions. Weapons were in their hands. 



114 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



and a huge engine of warfare like 
a caterpillar tractor was skimming 
over the sea from the cliff wall with 
a great grinding and clanking of its 
mechanisms. 

But the cage was pulling apart in 
his clutches as if made of reeds. 
With Joan in one encircling arm he 
was battling the spider men, driving 
swift short-arm jabs into their soft 
bloated bodies with devastating 
effect. And Tom, recovering from 
the first surprise of his capture, was 
doing a good job himself, his flail- 
ing arms scattering the Bardeks like 
ninepins. The Wanderer and his 
sphere, both doomed to material ex- 
istence only in infra-dimensipnal 
space, had vanished from sight. 

A bedlam rose up from the rein- 
forcing hordes as they came in to 
enter the force area. But Bert 
sensed the guiding touch of the 
Wanderer’s unseen hand, heard his 
placid voice urging him, and, in a 
single wild leap was inside the 
sphere with the girl. 

With Joan safely in the Wander- 
er’s care, he rushed out again for 
Tom. Then followed a nightmare of 
battling those twining tentacles and 
the puffy crowding bodies of the 
spider men. Wrestling tactics and 
swinging fists were all that the two 
Earthlings had to rely upon, but, be- 
tween them, they managed to fight 
off a half score of the Bardeks and 
work their way back into the glow- 
ing force area. 

“It’s no use,’’ Tom gasped. “We 
can’t get back.’’ 

“Sure we can. We’ve a friend— 
here — in the force area.” 

Tom Parker staggered: his 

strength was giving out. “No, no, 
Bert,” he moaned, “I can’t. You go 
on. Leave me here.” 

“Not on your life!” Bert swung 
him up bodily into the sphere as he 
contacted with the invisible metal 
of its hull. Kicking off the nearest 
of the spider men, he clambered in 
after the scientist. 



T he tableau then presented in 
the sphere’s interior was to re- 
main forever imprinted on Bert’s 
rnemory, though it was only a mo- 
mentary flash in his consciousness 
at the time : the Wanderer, calm and 
erect at the control panel, his be- 
nign countenance alight with satis- 
faction; Tom Parker, pulling him- 
self to his feet, clutching at the 
big man’s free arm, his mouth 
opened in astonishment; Joan, seat- 
ed at the Wanderer’s feet with awed 
and reverent eyes upturned. 

There is no passing directly be- 
tween the planes. One must have 
the force area as a gateway, and, 
besides, a medium such as the cage 
of the Bardeks, the orange light of 
the metal monsters, or the sphere of 
the Wanderer. Bert knew this in- 
stinctively as the sphere darkened 
and the flashing light-forms leaped 
across the blackness. 

The motors screamed in rising 
crescendo as their speed increased. 
Then, abruptly, the sound broke off 
into deathly silence as the limit of 
audibility was passed. Against the 
brilliant background of swift color 
changes and geometric light-shapes 
that so quickly merged into the 
familiar blur, Bert saw his com- 
panions as dim wraithlike forms. 
He moved toward Joan, groping. 

Then came the tremendous thump, 
the swinging of a colossal page 
across the void, the warping of the 
very universe about them, the 
physical torture and the swift rush 
through Stygian inkienss. . . . 

“Farewell.” A single word, whis- 
pered like a benediction in the 
Wanderer’s mellow voice, was in 
Bert’s consciousness. He knew that 
their benefactor had slipped away 
into the mysterious regions of intra- 
dimensional space. 

■I: « « 

R aising himself slowly and 
dazedly from where he had 
been flung, he saw they were in 
Tom’s laboratory. Joan lay over 



115 



WANDERER OF INFINITY 



there white and still, a pitiful 
crumpled heap. Panicky, Bert crossed 
to her. His trembling fingers found 
her pulse; a sobbing breath of relief 
escaped his lips. She had merely 
swooned. 

Tom Parker, exhausted from his 
efforts in that other plane and with 
the very foundations of his being 
wrenched by the passage through 
the fifth dimension, was unable to 
rise. Only semiconscious, his eyes 
were glazed with pain, and incoher- 
ent moaning sounds came from his 
white lips when he attempted to 
speak. 

Bert’s mind was clearing rapidly. 
That diabolical machine of Tom’s 
was still operating, the drone of its 
motors being the only sound in the 
laboratory as the inventor closed his 
mouth grimly and made a desperate 
effort to raise his head. But Bert 
had seen shapes materializing on 
the lighted disk that was the gate- 
way between planes and he rushed 
to the controls of the instrument. 
That starting lever must be shifted 
without delay. 

“Don’t !” Tom Parker had found 
his voice; his frantic warning was 
a hoarse whistling gasp. He had 
struggled to his knees. “It will kill 
you, Bert. Those things in the force 
area — partly through — ^the reaction 
will destroy the machine and all of 
us if you turn it off. Don’t, I say!” 

“What then?” Bert fell back ap- 
palled. Hazily, the steel prow of a 
war machine was forming itself on 
the metal disk; caterpillar treads 
moved like ghostly shadows be- 
neath. It was the vanguard of the 
Bardek hordes! 

“Can’t do it that way!” Tom had 
gotten to his feet and was stumbl- 
ing toward the force area. “Only 
one way — during the change of os- 
cillation periods. Must mingle other 
atoms with those before they stabil- 
ize in our plane. Must localize an- 
nihilating force. Must — ” 

What was the fool doing? He’d 



be in the force area in another mo- 
ment. Bert thrust forward to inter- 
cept him; saw that Joan had re- 
gained consciousness and was sit- 
ting erect, swaying weakly. Her 
eyes widened with horror as they 
took in the scene and she screamed 
once despairingly and was on her 
feet, tottering. 

“Back!” Tom Parker yelled, 
wheeling. “Save yourselves.” 

B ert lunged tov.^ard him but 
was too late. Tom had already 
burst into the force area and cast 
himself upon the semitransparent 
tank of the spider men. A blast of 
searing heat radiated from the disk 
and the motors of Tom’s machine 
groaned as they slowed down under 
a tremendous overload. 

Joan cried out in awful despair 
and moved to follow, but her knees 
gave way beneath her. Moaning and 
shuddering, she slumped into Bert’s 
arms and he drew her back from 
the awful heat of the force area. 

Then, horrified, they watched as 
Tom Parker melted into the misty 
shape of the Bardek war machine. 
Swiftly his body merged with the 
half-substance of the tank and be- 
came an integral part of the mass. 
For a horrible instant Tom, too, 
was transparent — a ghost shape 
writhing in a ghostly throbbing 
mechanism of another world. His 
own atomic structure mingled with 
that of the alien thing and yet, for 
a moment, he retained his Earthly 
form. His lean face was peaceful in 
death, satisfied, like the Wanderer’s 
when they had last seen him. 

A terrific thunderclap rent the air 
and a column of flame roared up 
from the force area. Tom’s appara- 
tus glowed to instant white heat, 
then melted down into sizzling 
liquid metal and glass. The labora- 
tory was in sudden twilight gloom, 
save for the tongue of fire that 
licked up from the force area to the 
paneled ceiling. On the metal disk, 



116 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



now glowing redly, was no visible 
thing. The gateway was closed for- 
ever. 

W HAT more fearful calamity 
might have befallen had the 
machine been switched off instead, 
Bert was never to know. Nor did he 
know how he reached his parked 
flivver with Joan a limp sobbing 
bundle in his arms. He only knew 
that Tom Parker’s sacrifice had 
saved them, had undoubtedly pre- 
vented a horrible invasion of Earth; 
and that the efforts of the Wan- 
derer had not been in vain. 

The old house was burning furi- 
ously when he climbed in under the 
wheel of his car. He held Joan very 
close and watched that blazing fun- 
eral pyre in wordless sorrow as the 
bereaved girl dropped her head to 
his shoulder. 

A group of men came up the 
winding road, a straggling group, 
running — ^the loungers from the vil- 
lage. In the forefront was the beard- 
less youth who had directed Bert, 
and, bringing up the rear, limping 
and scurrying, was the old man they 
had called Gramp. He was puffing 
prodigiously when the others gath- 
ered around the car, demanding in- 
formation. 

And the old fellow with the thick 
spectacles talked them all down. 

“What’d I tell you?” he screeched. 
“Didn’t I say they was queer doin’s 
up here? Didnt I say the devil was 
here with his imps — an’ the thunder? 
You’re a passel o’ id jits like I 
said — ” 



The roar of Bert’s starting motor 
drowned out the rest, but the old 
fellow was still gesticulating and 
dancing about when they clattered 
off down the winding road to Len- 
ville. 

A n hour later Joan had fallen 
asleep, exhausted. 

Night had fallen and, as mile after 
mile of smooth concrete unrolled 
beneath the flivver’s wheels, Bert 
gave himself over to thoughts he 
had not dared to entertain in nearly 
two years. They’d be happy, he and 
Joan, and there’d be no further ar- 
gument. If she still objected to liv- 
ing on the fruit farm, that could be 
managed easily. They’d live in In- 
dianapolis and he’d buy a new car, 
a good one, to run back and forth. 
If, when her grief for Tom had 
lessened, she wanted to go on with 
laboratory work " and such — ^well, 
that was easy, too. Only there would 
be no- fooling around with this 
dimensional stuff — she’d had enough 
of that, he knew. 

He drew her close with his free 
arm and his thoughts shifted — 
moved far out in infra-dimensional 
space to dwell upon the man of the 
past who had called himself Wan- 
derer of Infinity. He who would 
go on and on until the end of 
time, until the end of all things, 
watching over the many worlds and 
planes. Warning peoples of human- 
like mold and emotions wherever 
they might dwell. Helping them. 
Atoning throughout infinity. Suffer- 
ing. 



Be Sure To Fill Out 
The Reader’s Ballot! 



Cosmic Rays and the Atom 



W ITH recent developments in 
electrophysics as exposed by 
Dr. Arthur H. Compton, it begins 
to look as if the vast energy of the 
atom, heretofore practically inac- 
cessible, would yield to investiga-* 
tion. German scientists have al- 
ready succeeded in producing arti- 
ficial gamma rays of five times the 
intensity of those emitted by ra- 
dium and of strength which may be 
compared to the softer cosmic rays, 
when penetrating pov/er is consid- 
ered. 

The nucleus of the beryllium 
atom has been bombarded by alpha 
particles from the element polo- 
nium, and carbon has been produced 
for the first time in a laboratory. 
Dr. Compton has shown. 

During the past thirty years 
science has learned a great deal re- 
garding the external portion of the 
atom, namely the electrons or nega- 
tive charges of electricity which re- 
volve about the central nucleus. It 
has been only recently, however, 
that the nucleus, or proton, has 
been investigated. It had been 
thought that the gamma rays of 
radium had their origin in the 
outer shell of the atom, but re- 
cent researches have shown them 
to come from the nucleus. It was 
pointed out that from the nucleus 
is emanated energy a million times 
as powerful as the energy result- 
ing from ordinary chemical com- 
bination. The nature of this energy 
and its relation to atomic structure 
must be learned before a clear un- 
derstanding of matter is gained. 

Recent developments indicate that 
the beta particles given off during 
radioactivity do not travel with the 
same speed, though these elemental 
materials appear to be identical. 
This unexpected finding has led the 
Danish physicist Niels Bohr to 
propound a theory that the laws 
of the conservation of energy do 

117 



not hold in this and other cases. 
Our recent knowledge of these 
phenomena has come to us through 
three channels, the study of radio- 
activity, investigation of optical 
spectra and, finally, increasing 
knowledge of the nature of "the 
cosmic rays. 

Condon and Camow have attempt- 
ed to explain why some nuclei, for 
instance radium, disintegrate more 
rapidly than others, such as ura- 
nium. Alpha rays from the former 
are also ejected at higher speeds. 
Their theories would indicate that 
a “potential ■wall” exists around the 
nucleus which offers resistance to 
the penetration of the nucleus by 
foreign alpha particles and also 
prevents too ready escape of the 
alpha particles already present. 

Comparing the alpha and gamma 
rays from radium it has been found 
that the gamma (light) rays from 
this element are emitted from the 
alpha particles in the nucleus and 
not, as heretofore thought, from 
electrons. 

A remarkable experiment, hereto- 
fore considered impossible, has been 
accomplished by the German scien- 
tist Bothe. It consists in the pro- 
duction of artificial rays by the 
bombardment of beryllium by the 
emanation of polonium. These new 
rays are found to be much more 
penetrating than the natural gamma 
rays. The characteristics of the 
newly discovered rays have such 
similar properties to the cosmic 
rays that it is hoped that by a 
study of the former much regard- 
ing the nature of the latter will bo 
disclosed. 

Scientists are now well informed 
regarding the nature of the com- 
ponent parts of the nucleus. The 
problems which still confront them 
largely deal with the energy re- 
lationships which operate to bind 
the members together. 




Invasion 

By Murray Leinster 



I T was August 19, 2037. The 
United Nations was just fifty 
years old. Televisors were still 
monochromatic. The Nidics had 
just won the World Series in 
Prague. Com-Pub observatories were 
publishing elaborate figures on 
moving specks in space which they 
considered to be Martian spaceships 
on their way to Earth, but which 
United Nations astronomers could 
not discover at all. V/omen were 
using gilt lipsticks that year. Heat- 
induction motors were still con- 
sidered efficient prime movers. 



Thorn Hard was a high-level flier 
for the Pacific Watch. Bathyletis 
was the most prominent of nation- 
ally advertised diseases, and was to 
be cured by RO-17, “The Founda- 
tion of Personal Charm.” Somebody 
named Nirdlinger was President of 
the United Nations, and somebody 
else named Krassin was Commissar 
of Commissars for the Com-Pubs. 
Newspapers were printing flat pic- 
tures in three colors only, and de- 
ploring the high cost of stereoscopic 
plates. And . . . Thorn Hard was a 
high-level flier for the Pacific Watch. 




That is the essential point, of 
course — Thorn Hard’s work with 
the Watch. His job was, officially, 
hanging somewhere above the 
twenty-thousand-foot level with his 
detector-screens out, listening for 
unauthorized traffic. And, the normal 
state of affairs between the Corn- 
Pubs and the United Nations being 
one of highly armed truce, “un- 
authorized traf- 
fic” meant noth- 
ing more or less 
than spies. 

But on August 
19th, 2037, Thorn 
Hard was off du- 
ty. Decidedly so. He was sitting on 
top of Mount Wendei, in the 
Rockies; he had a ravishingly 
pretty girl sitting on the same rock 
with him, and he was looking at 
the sunset. The plane behind him 



was an official Watch plane, which 
civilians are never supposed to 
catch a glimpse of. It had brought 
Thorn Hard and Sylva West to 
this spot. It waited now, half- 
hidden by a spur of age-eroded 
rock, to take them back to civil- 
ization again. Its , G.C. (General 
Comniunication) phone muttered 
occasionally like the voice of con- 
science. 

T he colors of 
the moun- 
tains changed and 
blended. The sky 
to westward was 
a glory of a myriad colors. Man 
and girl, high above the world, sat 
with the rosy glow of dying sun- 
light in their faces and watched 
the colors fade and shift into other 
colors and patterns even more ex- 



The whole fighting fleet of the 
United Nations is caught in Kreyn- 
borg’s marvelous, unique trap. 




120 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



quisite. Their hands touched. They 
looked at each other. They smiled 
queerly, as people smile who are in 
love or otherwise not quite sane. 
They moved inevitably closer. . . . 

And then the G.C. phone barked 
raucously : 

“All Watch planes attention! Ur- 
gent! Extreme high-level traffic re- 
ported seven-ten line bound due 
east, speed over one thousand. All 
Watch planes put out all detectors 
and use extra vigilance. Note: the 
speed, course, and time of report of 
this traffic checks with Com-Pub 
observations of moving objects ap- 
proaching Earth from Mars. This 
possibility should be considered be- 
fore opening fire.” 

Thorn Hard stiffened all over. He 
got up and swung down to the 
stubby little ship with its gossamer- 
like wings of collate. He touched 
the report button. 

“Plane 257-A reporting seven-ten 
line. Thorn Hard flying. On Mount 
Wendel, on leave. Orders?” 

He was throwing on the screens 
even as he reported. And the 
vertical detector began to whistle 
shrilly. His eyes darted to the dial, 
and he spoke again. 

“Added report. Detector shows 
traffic approaching, bound due east, 
seven hundred miles an hour, high 
altitude. . . . Correction; six-fifty 
miles. Correction; six hundred.” He 
paused. “Traffic is decelerating rap- 
idly. I think, sir, this is the re- 
ported ship.” 

A nd then there was a barely 
audible whining noise high in 
the air to the west. It grew in 
volume and changed in pitch. From 
a whine it became a scream. Froni 
a scream it rose to a shriek. Some- 
thing monstrous and red glittered 
in the dying sunlight. It was huge. 
It was of no design ever known on 
earth. Wings supported it, but they 
were obscured by the blasts of 
forward rockets checking its speed. 



It was dropping rapidly. Then 
lifting-rockets spouted flame to keep 
it from too rapid a descent. It 
cleared a mountain-peak by a bare 
two hundred feet, some two miles 
to the south. It was a hundred-odd 
feet in length. It was ungainly in 
shape, monstrous in conformation. 
Colossal rocket-tubes behind it now 
barely trickled vaporous discharges. 
It cleared the mountain-top, went 
heavily on in a steep glide down- 
ward, and vanished behind a moun- 
tain-flank. Presently the thin moun- 
tain air brought the echoed sound 
of its landing, of rapid-fire explo- 
sions of rocket-tubes, and then si- 
lence. 

Thorn Hard was snapping swift, 
staccato sentences into the report- 
transmitter. Describing the clumsy 
glittering monster, its motion; its 
wings; its method of propulsion. 
It seemed somehow familiar despite 
its strangeness. He said so. 

Then a vivid blue flame licked all 
about the rim of the world and was 
gone. Simultaneously the G.C. 
speaker crashed explosively and 
went dead. Thorn went on grimly, 
switching in the spare. 

“A very violent electrical dis- 
charge went out from it then. A 
blue light seemed to flash all around 
the horizon at no great distance 
and my speaker blew out. I have 
turned on the spare. I do not know 
whether my sender is function- 
ing—” 

The spare speaker cut in abruptly 
at that moment: 

“It is. Stay where you are and 
observe. A squadron is coming.” 

T hen the voice broke off, be- 
cause a new sound was coming 
from the speaker. It was a voice 
that was unhuman and queerly hor- 
rible and somehow machine-like. 
Hoots and howls and whistles came 
from the speaker. Wailing sounds. 
Ghostly noises, devoid of conso- 
nants but broadcast on a wave- 



INVASION 



121 



length close to the G.C. band and 
therefore produced by intelligence, 
though unintelligible. The unhutnan 
hoots and wails and whistles came 
through for nearly a minute, and 
stopped. 

“Stay on duty!’’ snapped the G.C. 
speaker. “That’s no language known 
on earth. Those are Martians!” 
Thorn looked up to see Sylva 
standing by the Watch-plane door. 
Her face was pale in the growing 
darkness outside. 

“Beginning duty, sir,” said Thorn 
steadily, “I report that I have with 
me Miss Sylva West, my fiancee, 
in violation of regulations. I ask 
that her family be notified.” 

He snapped off the lights and 
went with her. The red rocket-ship 
had landed in the very next valley. 
There was a glare there, which 
wavered and flickered and died 
away. 

“Martians!” said Thorns in fine 
irony. “We’ll see when the Watch 
planes come! My guess is Corn- 
Pubs, using a searchlight! Nervy!” 
The glare vanished. There was 
only silence, a curiously complete 
and deadly silence. And Thorn said 
suddenly: 

“There’s no wind!” 

There was not. Not a breath of 
air. The mountains were uncannily 
quiet. The air was impossibly still, 
for a mountain-top. Ten minutes 
went by. Twenty. The detector- 
whistles shrilled. 

“There’s the Watch,” said Thorn 
in satisfaction. “Now we’ll see!” 
And then, abruptly, there was a 
lurid flash in the sky to northward. 
Two thousand feet up and a mile 
away, the unearthly green blaze of 
a hexynitrate explosion lit the whole 
earth with unbearable brilliance. 
“Stop your ears!” snapped Thorn. 

T he racking concussion-wave of 
hexynitrate will break human 
eardrums at an incredible distance. 
But no sound came, though the 



seconds went by. . . . Then, two 
miles away, there was a second 
gigantic flash. . . . Then a third. . . . 
But there was no sound at all. The 
quiet of the hills remained un- 
broken, though Thorn knew that 
such cataclysmic detonations should 
be audible at twenty miles or 
more. Then lights flashed on above. 
Two — three — six of them. They 
wavered all about, darting here and 
there. . . . Then one of the flying 
searchlights vanished utterly in a 
fourth terrific flash of green. 

“The watch planes are going up!” 
said Thorn dazedly. “Blowing up! 
And we can’t hear the explosions!” 

Behind him the G.C. speaker 
barked his call. He raced to get its 
message. 

“The Watch planes we sent to 
join you,” said a curt voice he 
recognized as that of the Command- 
ing General of the United Nations, 
“have located an invisible barrier 
by their sonic altimeters. Four of 
them seem to have rammed it and 
exploded without destroying it. 
What have you to report?” 

“I’ve seen the flashes, sir,” said 
Thorn unsteadily, “but they made 
no noise. And there’s no wind, sir. 
Not a breath since the blue flash I 
reported.” 

A pause. 

“Your statement bears out their 
report,” said the G.C. speaker 
harshly. “The barrier seems to be 
hemispherical. No such barrier is 
known on Earth. These must be 
Martians, as the Com-Pubs said. You 
will wait until morning and try to 
make peaceful contact with them. 
This barrier may be merely a pre- 
caution on their part. You will try 
to convince them that we wish to 
be friendly.” 

“I don’t believe they’re Martians, 
sir — ” 

Sylva came racing to the door of 
the plane. 

“Thorn! Something’s coming! I 
hear it droning!” 



122 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



Thorn himself heard a dull dron- 
ing noise in the air, coming to- 
ward him. 

“Occupants of the pocket-ship, 
sir,” he said grimly, “seem to be 
approaching. Orders?” 

“Evacuate the ship,” snapped the 
G.C. phone. “Let them examine it. 
They will understand how we com- 
municate and prepare to receive and 
exchange messages. If they seem 
friendly, make contact at once.” 

T horn made swift certain 
movements and dived for the 
door. He seized Sylva and fled for 
the darkness below the plane. He 
was taking a desperate risk of 
falling down the mountain-slopes. 
The droning drew near. It passed 
directly overhead. Then there was a 
flash and a deafening report. A 
beam of light appeared aloft. It 
searched for and found Thorn’s 
plane, now a wreck. Flash after 
flash and explosion after explosion 
followed. . . . 

They stopped. Their echoes rolled 
and reverberated among the hills. 
There was a hollow, tremendous 
intensification of the echoes aloft 
as if a dome of some solid sub- 
stance had reflected back the sound. 
Slowly the rollings died away. 
Then a voice boomed through a 
speaker overhead, and despite, his 
suspicions Thom felt a queer sur- 
prise. It was a human voice, a 
man’s voice, full of a horrible 
amusement. 

“Thorn Hardt! Thorn Hardt! 
Where are you?” Thorn did not 
move or reply. “If I haff not killed 
you, you hear me,” the voice 
chuckled. “Come to see me. Thorn 
Hardt. Der dome of force iss big, 
yes, but you can no more get out 
than your friends can get in. And 
now I haff destroyed your phones 
so you can no longer chat with 
them. Come and see me. Thorn 
Hardt, so I will not be bored. We 
will discuss der Com-Pubs. And 



bring der lady friend. You may 
play der chaperon!” 

The voice laughed. It was not 
pleasant laughter. And the hum- 
ming drone in the air rose and 
dwindled. It moved away from the 
mountain-top. It lessened and les- 
sened until it was inaudible. Then 
there was dead silence again. 

“By his accent, he’s a Baltic 
Russian,” said Thorn very grimly 
in the darkness. “Which means 
Com-Pubs, not Martians, though 
we’re the only people who realize 
it; and they’re starting a war! And 
we, Sylva, must warn our people. 
How are we going to do it?” 

She pressed his hand confidently, 
but it did not look promising. 
Thorn Hard was on foot, without 
a transmitter, armed only with his 
belt-weapons and with a girl to 
look after, and moreover imprisoned 
in a colossal dome of force which 
hexynitrate had failed to crack. . . . 

I T was August 20, 2037. There 
was a triple murder in Paris 
which was rumored to be the work 
of a Com-Pub spy, though the 
murderer’s unquestionably Gallic 
touches made the rumor dubious. 
Newspaper vendor-units were 
screaming raucously, “Martians land 
in Colorado!” and the newspapers 
themselves printed colored-photos 
of hastily improvised models in 
their accounts of the landing of a 
blood-red rocket-ship in the widest 
part of the Rockies. The inter- 
continental tennis matches reached 
their semi-finals in Havana, Cuba. 
Thorn Hard had not reported to 
Watch headquarters in twelve hours. 
Quadruplets were born in Des 
Moines, Iowa. Krassin, Commissar 
of Commissars of the Com-Pubs, 
made a diplomatic inquiry about 
the rumors that a Martian space- 
ship had landed in North America. 
He asked that Com-Pub scientists 
be permitted to join in the ques- 
tioning and examination of the 



INVASION 



123 



Martian visitors. The most famous 
European screen actress landed 
from the morning Trans-Atlantic 
plane with her hair dyed a light 
lavender, and beauty-shops through- 
out the country placed rush orders 
for dye to take care of the demand 
for lavender hair which would be- 
gin by mid-afternoon. The heavy- 
weight champion of the United Na- 
tions was warned that his title 
would be forfeited if he further 
dodged a fight with his most prom- 
ising contender. And. . . . Thorn 
Hard had not reported to Watch 
headquarters in twelve hours. 

He was, as a matter of fact, 
cautiously parting some bushes to 
peer past a mountain-flank at the 
red rocket-ship. Sylva West lay on 
the ground behind him. Both of 
them weary to the point of exhaus- 
tion. They had started their descent 
from Mount Wendel at the first 
gray streak of dawn in the east. 
They had toiled painfully across 
the broken country between, to 
this point of vantage. Now Thorn 
looked down upon the rocket-ship. 

I T lay a little askew upon the 
ground, seeming to be partly 
buried in the earth. A hundred feet 
and more in length, it was even 
more obviously a monstrosity as he 
looked at it in the bright light of 
day. But now it was not alone. 
Beside it a white tower reared up- 
ward, Pure white and glistening in 
the sunshine, a bulging, uneven 
shaft rose a hundred feet sheer. It 
looked as solid as marble. Its pur- 
pose was unguessable. There was a 
huge, fan-shaped space where the 
vegetation about the rocket-ship 
was colored a vivid red. In air- 
photos, the rocket-ship would look 
remarkably like something from an- 
other planet. But nearby. Thorn 
could see a lazy trickle of fuel- 
fumes from a port-pipe on one 
side of the monster, . . . 

“That tower is nothing but collate 



foam, which hardens. And Sylva! 
See?” 

She came cautiously through the 
brushwood and looked down. She 
shivered a little. From here they 
could see beneath the bows of the 
rocket-ship. And there was a name 
there, in the Cyrillic alphabet 
which was the official written 
language of the Com-Pubs. Here, 
on United Nations soil, it was in- 
solent. It boasted that the red ship 
came, not from an alien planet, but 
from a nation more alien still to all 
the United Nations stood for. The 
Com-Pubs — the Union of Commu- 
nist Republics — ^were neither com- 
munistic nor republics, but they 
were much more dangerous to the 
United Nations than any mere Mar- 
tians would have been. 

“We’ll have some heavy ships 
here to investigate, soon,” said 
Thorn grimly. “Then I’ll signal!” 



H e flung back his head. High 
up and far away, beyond that 
invisible barrier against which 
Watch-planes had flung themselves 
in vain, there were tiny motes in 
mid-air. These were Watch planes 
too, hovering outside the obstacle 
they could not see, but which even 
hexynitrate bombs could not break 
through. And very far away indeed 
there was a swiftly-moving small 
dark cloud. As Thorn watched, that 
cloud drew close. As his eyes 
glowed, it resolved itself into its 
component specks. Small, two-man 
patrol-scouts. Larger, ten-man 
cruisers of the air. Huge, massive 
dreadnaughts of the blue. A com- 
plete combat-squadron of the United 
Nations Fighting Forces was sweep- 
ing to position about the dome of 
force above the rocket-ship. 

The scouts swept forward in a 
tiny, whirling cloud. They sheered 
away from something invisible. One 
of them dropped a smoking object. 
It emitted a vast cloud of paper, 



124 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



which the wind caught and swept 
away, and suddenly wrapped about 
a definite section of an arc. More 
and more of the tiny smoke-bombs 
released their masses of cloudlike 
stuff. In mid-air a dome began to 
take form, outlined by the trailing 
streaks of gray. It began to be more 
definitely traced by interlinings. An 
aerial lattice spread about a portion 
of a six-mile hemisphere. The top 
was fifteen thousand feet above the 
rocket-ship, twenty-five thousand 
feet from sea-level, as high as 
Mount Everest itself. 

Tiny motes hovered even there, 
where the smallest of visible specks 
was a ten-man cruiser. And one of 
the biggest of the air-craft came 
gingerly up to the very inner edge 
of the lattice-work of fog and hung 
motionless, holding itself aloft by 
powerful helicopter screws. Men 
were working from a trailing stage 
—scientists examining the barrier 
even hexynitrate would not break 
down. 

T horn set to work. He had 
come toilsomely to the neigh- 
borhood of the rocket-ship because 
he would have to do visual sig- 
naling, and there was no time to 
lose. The dome of force was trans- 
parent. The air fleet would be try- 
ing to communicate through dt 
with the Martians they believed 
were in the rocket-ship. Sunlight 
reflected from a polished canteen 
would attract attention instantly 
from a spot near the red monster, 
while elsewhere it might not be 
observed for a long time. But, try- 
ing every radio wave-band, and 
every system of visual signaling, 
and watching and testing for a 
reply. Thorn’s signal ought to be 
picked up instantly. 

He handed his pocket speech- 
light receptor to Sylva. It is stand- 
ard equipment for all flying per- 
sonnel, so they may receive non- 
broadcast orders from flight leaders. 



He pointed to a ten-man cruiser 
from which shone the queer elec- 
tric-blue glow of a speech-light. 

“Listen in on that,” he com- 
manded. “I’m going to call them. 
Tell me when they answer.” 

He began to flash dots and dashes 
in that quaintly archaic telegraph 
alphabet Watch fliers are still re- 
quired to learn. It was the Watch 
code call, sent over and over again. 

“They’re trying to make the Mar- 
tians understand,” said Sylva un- 
steadily with the speech-light re- 
ceiver at her ear. 

F lash — flash — ^flash. . . . Thorn 
kept on grimly. The canteen 
top was slightly convex, so the 
sunlight-beam would spread. Ac- 
curacy was not needed, therefore. 
He covered and uncovered it, and . 
covered and uncovered it. . . . 

“They answered!” said Sylva 
eagerly. “They said ‘Thorn Hard 
report at once!’ ” 

There was a hissing, roaring noise 
over the hillside, where the red 
rocket-ship lay. Thorn paid no at- 
tention. He began to spell out, in 
grim satisfaction: 

“R-o-c-k-e-t s-h-i-p i-s — " 

“Look out!” gasped Sylva. “They 
say look out. Thorn!” 

Then she screamed. As^ Thorn 
swung his head around, he saw a 
dense mass of white vapor rushing 
over the hillside toward them. He 
picked Sylva up in his arms and 
ran madly. . . . 

The white vapor tugged at his 
knees. It was a variation of a vor- 
tex-stream. He fought his way sav- 
agely toward higher ground. The 
white vapor reached his waist. . . . 
It reached his shoulders. . . . He 
slung Sylva upon his shoulder and 
fought more madly still to get out 
of the wide white current. ... It 
submerged him in its stinging, 
bitter flood. ... As he felt himself 
collapsing his last conscious thought 
was the bitter realization that the 



INVASION 



125 



bulbous white tower had upheld 
television lenses at its top, which 
had watched his approach and in- 
spection of the rocket-ship, and had 
enabled those in the red monster to 
accurately direct their spurt of gas. 

His next sensation was that of 
pain in his lungs. Something that 
smarted intolerably was being 
forced into his nostrils, and he 
battled against the agony it pro- 
duced. And then he heard someone 
chuckle amusedly and felt the curi- 
ous furry sensation of electric 
anesthesia beginning. . . . 

W HEN he came to himself 
again a machine was clicking 
erratically and there was the soft 
whine of machinery going some- 
where. He opened his eyes and 
saw red all about him. He stirred, 
and he was free. Painfully, he sat 
up and blinked about him with 
streaming, gas-irritated eyes. He 
had been lying on a couch. He was 
in a room perhaps fifteen feet by 
twenty, of which the floor was 
slightly off-level. And everything 
in the room was red. Floor and 
walls and ceiling, the couch he had 
lain on and the furniture itself. 
There was a monstrous bulk of a 
man sitting comfortably in a chair 
on the other side of the room, peck- 
ing at a device resembling a writ- 
ing-machine. 

Thorn sat still for an instant, 
gaining strength. Then he flung 
himself desperately across the room, 
his fingers curved into talons. 

Five feet, ten, with the slant of 
the floor giving him added impetus. 
. . . Then his muscles tightened 
convulsively. A wave of pure agony 
went through his body. He dropped 
and lay writhing on the floor, while 
the high-frequency currents of an 
induction-screen had their way with 
him. He was doubled into a knot 
by his muscles responding to the 
electric stimulus instead of his 
will. Sheer anguish twisted him. 



And the room filled with a hearty 
bellow of laughter. The monstrous 
whiskered man had turned about 
and was shaking with merriment. 

He picked up a pocket-gun from 
beside him and turned off a switch 
at his elbow. Thorn’s muscles were 
freed. 

“Go back, my friendt,” boomed 
the same voice that had come from 
a speaker the night before. “Go to 
der couch. You amuse me and you 
haff already been useful, but I shall 
haff no hesitation in killing you. 
You are Thorn Hardt. My name is 
Kreynborg. How do you do?’’ 
“Where’s my friend?” demanded 
Thorn savagely. “Where is she?” 
“Der lady friendt? There!” The 
whiskered man pointed negligently 
with the pocket-gun. “I gafe her a 
bunk to slumber in.” 

T here was a niche in the wall, 
which Thorn had not seen, Syl- 
va was there, sleeping the same 
heavy, dreamless sleep from which 
Thorn himself had just awakened. 
He went to her swiftly. She was 
breathing naturally, though tears 
from the irritating gas still streaked 
her face and her skin seemed to be 
pinkened a little from the same 
cause. 

Thorn swung around. His weap- 
ons were gone, of course. The huge 
man snapped on the induction- 
screen switch again and put down 
his weapon. With that screen sep- 
arating the room into two halves, 
no living thing could cross it with- 
out either such muscular paralysis 
as Thorn had just experienced, or 
death. Coils in the floor induced 
alternating currents in the flesh 
itself, very like those currents used 
for supposed medical effects in 
“medical batteries,” and “shockers.” 
“Be calm!” said Kreynborg, 
chuckling. “I am pleased to haff 
company. This is der loneliest spot 
in der Rockies. It was chosen for 
that reason. But I shall be here for 



126 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



maybe months, and now I shall not 
be lonely. We of der Com-Pubs 
half scientihc resources such as 
yoiu: fools haff nefer dreamed of, 
but there is no scientific substitute 
for a pretty woman.” 

He turned again to the writing 
device. It clicked half a dozen times 
more, and he stopped. A strip of 
paper came out of it. He inserted 
it into the slot of another mechan- 
ism and switched on a standard 
G.C. phone as the paper began to 
feed. In seconds the room was 
filled with unearthly hoots and wails 
and whistles. They came from the 
device into which the paper was 
feeding, and they poured into the 
G.C. transmitter. They went on for 
nearly a minute, and ceased. Kreyn- 
borg shut off the transmitter. 

“My code,” he observed com- 
fortably, “gifing der good news to 
Stalingrad. Everything is going 
along beautifully. I roused der 
fair Sylva and kissed her a few 
times to make her scream into a rec- 
ord, and I interpolated her scream- 
ings into der last code transmission. 
Your wise men think der Martians 
haff vivisected her. They are con- 
centrating der entire fighting force 
of der United Nations outside der 
dome of force. And all for a few 
kisses !” 

T horn was white with rage. 

His eyes burned with a ter- 
rible fury. His hands shook. Kreyn- 
borg chuckled again. 

“Oh, she is unharmed — so far. I 
haff not much time now. Presently 
der two of you will while away 
der time. But not now.” 

He switched in the G.C. receiver 
and the room filled with a multi- 
tude of messages. Thorn sat beside 
Sylva, watching, watching, watch- 
ing, while invisible machinery 
whined softly and Kreynborg lis- 
tened intently to the crisp, curt 
official reports that came through 
on the Fighting Force band. Three 



combat-squadrons were on the spot 
now; One, Three and Eight. Four 
more were coming at fast cruising 
speed — four hundred miles an hour. 
One combat-squadron of the whole 
fleet alone would be left to cope 
with all other emergencies that 
might arise. ... A television screen 
lighted up and Thorn could see 
where the lenses on the bulbous 
tower showed the air all about 
filled with fighting-planes, hovering 
about the dome of force like moths 
beating their wings against a 
screen. The strongest fighting-force 
in the world, helpless against a' 
field of electric energy! 

“It is amusing,” chuckled Kreyn- 
borg, looking at the screen com- 
placently. “Der dome of force is a 
new infention. It is a heterodyning 
of one frequency upon another at 
a predetermined distance. It has all 
der properties of matter except 
mass and a limit of strength. There 
is no limit to its strength! But it 
cannot be made except in a sphere, 
so at first it seemed only a defensif 
weapon. With it, we could defy der 
United Nations to attack us. But 
we wished to do more. So I pro- 
posed a plan, and I haff der honor 
of carrying it out. If I fail, Krassin 
disavows me. But I shall not fail, 
and I shall end as Commissar for 
der continent of North America!” 

H e looked wisely at Thorn, who 
sat motionless. 

“You keep quiet, eh, and wait for 
me to say something indiscreet? 
Ferry well, I tell you. We are in a 
sort of gold-fish globe of electric 
force. Your air fleet cannot break 
in. You know that! Also, if they 
•were in they could not break out 
again. So I wait, fery patiently 
pretending to be a Martian until 
all your Fighting Force has gath- 
ered around in readiness to fight 
me. But I shall not fight. I shall 
simply make a new and larger 
gold-fish globe, outside of this one. 



INVASION 127 



And then I go out and make faces 
at der Fighting Force of der United 
Nations imprisoned between der 
two of them — and then der Corn- 
Pub fleet comes ofer!” 

He stood up and put his hand 
on a door-knob. 

“Is it not pretty?” he asked 
blandly. “In two weeks der air fleet 
will begin to starfe. In three, there 
will be cannibalism, unless der 
Com-Pubs accept der surrender. 
Imagine. . . .” He laughed. “But do 
not fear, my friendt! I haff pro- 
fisions for a year. If you are amus- 
ing, I feed you. In any case I ex- 
change food for kisses with der 
charming Sylva. It will be amusing 
to change her from a woman who 
screams as I kiss her, to one who 
weeps for joy. If I do not haff to 
kill you, you shall witness it!” 

He vanished through a doorway 
on the farther side of the room. In- 
stantly Thorn was on his feet. The 
dead slumber in which Sylva was 
sunk was wholly familiar. Electric 
anesthesia, used not only for sur- 
gery, but to enforce complete rest 
at any chosen moment. He dragged 
her from that couch to his own. 
He saw her stir, and her eyes were 
instantly wide with terror. But 
Thorn was tearing the couch to 
pieces. Cover, pneumatic mattress. 
. . . He ripped out a loosely-fitting 
frame-piece of steel. 

“Quick, now,” he said in a low 
tone, “I’m going to short the in- 
duction-screen. We’ll get across it. 
Then — out the door!” 

S HE struggled to her feet, terri- 
fied, but instantly game. Thorn 
slid the rod of metal across the 
stretch of flooring he had previous- 
ly been unable to cross. The in- 
duced currents in the rod amounted 
to a short-circuit of the field. The 
rod grew hot and its paint blis- 
tered smokily. Thorn leaped across 
with Sylva in his wake. He pointed 
to the door, and she fled through 



it. He seized a chair, crashed it 
frenziedly into the television screen, 
and had switched on the G.C. phone 
when there was a roar of fury from 
Kreynborg. Instantly there was the 
spitting sound of a pocket-gun and 
in the red room the racking crash 
of a hexynitrate pellet. Nothing can 
stand the instant crash of hexyni- 
trate. Its concussion-wave is a single 
pulsation of the air. The cellate 
diaphragm of the G. C. transmitter 
tore across from its violence and 
Thorn cursed bitterly. There was 
no way, now, of signaling. . . . 

A second racking crash as a sec- 
ond pellet flashed its tiny green 
flame. Kreynborg was using a 
pocket-gun, one of those small ter- 
rible weapons which shoot a pro- 
jectile barely larger than the 
graphite of a lead pencil, but loaded 
with a fraction of a milligram of 
hexynitrate. Two hundred charges 
would feed automatically into the 
bore as the trigger was pressed. 

Thorn gazed desperately about 
for weapons. There was nothing in 
sight. To gain the outside world 
he had to pass before the doorway 
through which the bullets had 
come. . . . And suddenly Thorn 
seized the code-writer and the de- 
vice which transmitted that code as 
a series of unearthly noises which 
the world was taking for Martian 
speech. He swung the two machines 
before the door in a temporary 
barrier. Whatever else Kreynborg 
might be willing to destroy, he 
would not shoot into them! 

Thorn leaped madly past the door 
as Kreynborg roared with rage 
again. He paused only to hurl a 
chair at the two essential machines, 
and as they dented and toppled, he 
fled through the door and away. 

S YLVA peered anxiously at him 
from behind a huge boulder. 
He raced toward her, expecting 
every second to hear the spitting 
of Kreynborg’s pocket-gun. With 



128 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OP SUPER-SCIENCE 



the continuous-fire stud down, the 
little gun would shoot itself empty 
in forty-five seconds, during which 
time Kreynborg could play it upon 
him like a hose that spouted death. 
But Thorn had done the hundred 
yards in eleven seconds, years be- 
fore. He bettered his record now. 
The first of the little green flashes 
came when he v/as no more than 
ten yards from the boulder which 
sheltered Sylva. The tiny pellet had 
missed him by inches. Three more, 
and he was safe from pursuit*. 

“But we’ve got to get awayl” he 
panted. “He can shoot gas here and 
get us again! He can cover four 
hundred yards with gas, and more 
than that with guns.” 

They fled down a tiny water- 
course, midget figures in an in- 
finity of earth and sky, scurrying 
frenziedly from a red slug-like thing 
that lay askew in a mountain valley. 
Far away and high above hung the 
war-planes of the United Nations. 
Big ones and little ones, hovering 
in hundreds about the outside of 
the dome of force they could 
neither penetrate nor understand. 

A quarter of a mile. Half a mile. 
There was no sign from Kreynborg 
or the rocket-ship. Thorn panted. 

“He can’t reach us with gas, now, 
and it looks like he doesn’t dare 
use a gun. They’d know he wasn’t 
a Martian. At night he’ll use that 
helicopter, though. If we can only 
make those ships see us. . . .” 

T hey toiled on. The sun was 
already slanting down toward 
the western sky. At four — ^by the 
sun- — Thorn could point to a huge 
air-dreadnaught hanging by lazily 
revolving gyros barely two miles 
away. He waved wildly, frantically, 
but the big ship drifted on, un- 
seeing. The Fighting Force was no 
longer looking for Thorn and Syl- 
va. They had been carried into the 
rocket-ship fourteen hours and more 
before. Sylva’s screaming had been 



broadcast with the weird hoots and 
whistles the United Nations be- 
lieved to be the language of inter- 
planetary invaders. The United Na- 
tions believed them dead. Now a 
watch was being kept on the rocket- 
ship, to be sure, but it was becom- 
ing a matter-of-fact sort of vigi- 
lance, pending the arrival of the 
rest of the Fighting Force and the 
cracking of the dome of force by 
the scientists who worked on it 
night and day. 

On level ground. Thorn and 
Sylva would have reached the edge 
of the dome in an hour. Here they 
bad to climb up steep hillsides and 
down precipitous slopes. Four times 
they halted to make frantic efforts 
to attract the attention of some 
nearby ship. 

It was six when they came upon 
the rim. There was no indication 
of its existence save that three 
hundred yards from them boughs 
waved and leaves quivered in a 
breeze. Inside the dome the air was 
utterly still. 

"There it is!” panted Thorn. 

Wearied and worn out as they 
were, they hurried forward, and 
abruptly there was something which 
impeded their movements. They 
could reach their hands into the 
impalpable barrier. For one foot, 
two, or even three. But an intoler- 
able pressure thrust them back. 
Thorn seized a sapling and ran at 
the barrier as if with a spear. It 
went five feet, into the invisible 
resistance and stopped, shot back 
out as if flung back by a jet of 
compressed air. 

“He told the truth,” groaned 
Thom. “We can’t get out!” 

L ong shadows were already 
reaching out from the moun- 
tains. Darkness began to creep up- 
ward among the valleys. Far, far 
away a compact dark cloud ap- 
peared, a combat-squadron. It swept 
toward the dome and dissociated 



INVASION 



into a myriad specks which were 
aircraft. The fliers alread]^ swirlinj; 
about the invisible dome drew aside 
to leave a quadrant clear, and Coni- 
bat-Squadron Seven merged with 
the rest, making the pattern of 
dancing specks markedly denser. 

“With a fire,” said Thorn des- 
perately, “they’ll come! Of course! 
But Kreynborg took my lighter!” 

Sylva said hopefully: 

“Don’t you know some way? Rub- 
bing sticks together?” 

“I don’t,” admitted Thorn grim- 
ly, “but I’ve got to try to invent 
one. While I’m at it, you watch for 
fliers.” 

He searched for dry wood. He 
rubbed sticks together. They grew 
warm, but not enough to smoke, 
much less to catch. He muttered, 
“A drill, that’s the idea. All the 
friction in one spot.” He tugged at 
the ring under his lapel and the 
parachute fastened into his uniform 
collar shot out in a billowing mass 
of gossamer silk, flung out by the 
powerful elastics designed to make 
its opening certain. Savagely, he 
tore at the shrouds and had a 
stout cord. He made a drill and 
revolved it as fast as he could with 
the cord. . . . 

A second dark cloud swept for- 
ward in the gathering dusk and 
merged into the mass of fliers about 
the dome. Five minutes later, a 
third. Dense as the air-traffic was, 
riding-lights were necessary. They 
began to appear in the deepening 
twilight’. It seemed as if all the 
sky were alight with fireflies, whir- 
ling and swirling and fluttering 
here and there. But then the fire- 
drill began to emit a tiny wisp of 
smoke. Thorn worked furiously. 
Then a tiny flickering flame ap- 
peared, which he nursed with a 
desperate solicitude. Then a larger 
flame. Then a roaring blaze ! It 
could not be missed! A fire within 
the dome could not fail to be noted 
and examined instantly ! 



129 

A SEARCHIGHT beam fell 
upon them, limning him in a 
pitiless glare. Thorn waved his 
arms' frantically. He had nothing 
with which to signal save his body. 
He flung his arms wide, and up, 
and wide again, in an improvis^ 
adaption of the telegraphic alphabet 
to gesticulation. He sent the watch 
call over and over again. . . . 

A little cloud of riding-lights 
swept toward the dome from an 
infinite distance away. Darkness 
was falling so swiftly that they 
were still merely specks of light 
as they swept up to and seemed to 
melt into the swirling, swooping 
mass of fliers about the dome. . . . 

Cold sweat was standing out on 
Thorn’s face, despite the violence 
of his exertions. He was even pray- 
ing a little. . . . And suddenly the 
searchlight beam flickered a wel- 
come answer: 

“W-e u-n-d-e-r-s-t-a-n-d. R-e- 
p-o-r-t.” 

Thorn flung his arms about mad- 
ly, sending: 

“G-e-t a-w-a-y q-u-i-c-k. C-o-m 
P-u-b-s h-e-r-e. W-i-1-1 m-a-k-e 
c-t-h-e-r d-o-m-e o-u-t-s-i-d-e t-o 
t-r-a-p y-o-u.” 

The . searchlight beam upon him 
flickered an acknowledgment. He 
knew what was happening after that. 
The G.C. phones would flash the 
warning to every ship, and every 
ship would dash madly for safety. 
. . . A sudden, concerted quiver 
seemed to go over the whirling 
maze of lights aloft, A swift, 
simultaneous movement of every 
ship in flight. Thorn breathed an 
agonized prayer. . . . 

There was a flash of blue light. 
For one fractional part of a second 
the stars and skies were blotted 
out. There was a dome of flame 
above him and all about the world, 
of bright blue flame which in- 
stantly was — and instantly was not! 

Then there -was a ghastly blast 
of green. Hexynitrate going off. In 



130 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



this glare were silhouetted a myriad 
motes in flight. But there was ho 
noise. A second flare. . . . And then 
Thorn Hard, groaning, saw flash 
after flash after flash of green. Mon- 
ster explosions. Colossal explosions. 
Terrific detonations which were 
utterly soundless, as the ships of 
the Fighting Force, in flight from 
the menace of which Thorn had 
warned them, crashed into an in- 
visible barrier and exploded without 
cracking it. 

I T was August 24th, 2037. For 
three days, now, seven of the 
eight great combat-squadrons of 
the United Nations Fighting Forces 
had been prisoners inside a mon- 
strous transparent dome of force. 
There was a financial panic of un- 
precedented proportions in the 
great financial districts of New 
York and London and Paris. Mar- 
tial law was in force in Chicago, 
in Prague, in Madrid, and in Buenos 
Aires. The Com-Pubs were prepar- 
ing an ultimatum to be delivered 
to the government of the United 
Nations. Thorn and Sylva were 
hunted fugitives within the inner 
dome of force, which protected 
the red rocket-ship from the seven 
combat squadrons it had impris- 
oned. Newspaper vendor-units were 
shrieking, “Air Fleet Still 
Trapped!” and a prominent Ameri- 
can politician was promising his 
constituents that if a foreign nation 
dared invade the sacred territories 
of the United Nations, a million 
embattled private planes would take 
the air. And he seemed not even 
trying to be humorous! Scientists 
were wringing their hands in utter 
helplessness before the incredible 
resistance of the dome. It had been 
determined that the dome was a 
force-field which caused particles 
charged with positive electricity to 
attempt to move in a right-hand 
direction about the source of the 
field, and particles charged with 



negative electricity to attempt to 
move in a left-hand direction. The 
result was that any effort to thrust 
an external object into the field of 
force was an attempt to tear the 
negatively charged electrons of 
every atom of that substance, free 
from the positively charged pro- 
tons or nuclei. An object could 
only be passed through the field 
of force if it ceased to exist as 
matter — ^which was not an especially 
helpful discovery. And — Thorn Hard 
and Sylva were still hunted fugi- 
tives inside the inner dome. 

T he sun was an hour high 
when the helicopter appeared 
to hunt for them by day. After 
the first time they had never dared 
light a fire, because Kreynborg in 
the helicopter searched the hills 
for a glow of light. But this day 
he came searching for them by day. 
Thorn had speared a fish for Sylva 
with a stick he had sharpened by 
rubbing it on a crumbling rock. 
He was working discouragedly on a 
littlie contrivance made out of a 
forked stick and the elastic from 
his parachute-pack. He was haggard 
and worn and desperate. Sylva was 
beginning to look like a hunted 
wild thing. 

Two hundred yards from them 
the most formidable fighting force 
the world had ever seen littered 
the earth with gossamer-seeming 
cellate wings and streamlined 
bodies at all angles to each other. 
And it was completely useless. 
The least of the weapons of the 
air-fleet would have been a god- 
send to Thorn and Sylva. To have 
had one ship, even the smallest, 
where they were would have been 
a godsend to the fleet. But two 
hundred yards, with the dome of 
force between, made the fleet just 
exactly as much protection for 
Sylva as if it had been a million 
miles away. 

The droning hum of the heli- 



INVASION 



131 



copter came across the broken 
ground. Now louder, now mo- 
mentarily muted, its moments ' of 
loudness grew steadily more strong. 
It was coming nearer. Thorn 
gripped his spear in an instinctive, 
utterly futile gesture of defense. 
Sylva touched his hand. 

“We’d better hide.” 

They hid. Thick brush concealed 
them utterly. The helicopter went 
slowly overhead, and they saw 
Kreynborg gazing down at the 
earth below him. Nearly overhead 
he paused. And suddenly Thorn 
groaned under his breath. 

“It’s the flagship!” he whispered 
hoarsely to Sylva. “Oh, what fools 
we were! The flagship! He knows 
the General would have brought 
it to earth opposite us, to question 
us!” 

T he flagship was nearly oppo- 
site. To find the flagship was 
more or less to find where Thorn 
and Sylva hid. But they had not 
realized it until now. 

The speaker in the helicopter 
boomed above their heads. 

“Ah, my friends! I think you 
hear me. Answer me. I haff an offer 
to make.” 

Shivering, Sylva pressed close to 
Thorn. 

“Der Com-Pub fleet is on der 
way,” said Kreynborg, chuckling. 
“Sefen-eights of der United Na- 
tions fleet is just outside. You haff 
observed it. In six hours der Com- 
Pub fleet begins der conquest of 
der country and der execution of 
persons most antagonistic to our 
regime. But I haff still weary weeks 
of keeping der air fleet prisoner, 
until its personnel iss too weak 
from starfation to offer resistance 
to our soldiers. So I make der offer. 
Come and while away * der weary 
hours for me, and I except you 
both from der executions I shall 
findt it necessary to decree. Refuse, 
and I get you anyhow, and you 



will regret your refusal fery much, ’ 
Thorn’s teeth ground together. 
Sylva pressed close to him. 

“Don’t let him get me. Thorn,” 
she panted hysterically. “Don’t let 
him get me. . . .” 

T he droning, monotonous hum 
of the helicopter over their 
heads continued. The little flying- 
machine was motionless. The air 
iw(as still. There was no other 
sound in the world. 

Silence, save for the droning 
hum of the helicopter. Then some- 
thing dropped. It went off with 
an inadequate sort of an explosion 
and a cloud of misty white vapor 
reared upward on a hillside and 
began to settle slowly, spreading 
out. . . . The helicopter moved and 
other things dropped, making a 
pattern. . . . 

“The air’s still,” said Thorn quite 
grimly. “That stuff seems to be 
heavier than air. It’s flowing down- 
hill, toward the dome-wall. It will 
be here in five minutes. We’ve got 
to move.” 

Sylva seemed to be stricken with 
terror. He helped her to her feet. 
They began to move toward higher 
ground. They moved with infinite 
caution. In the utter silence of this 
inner dome, even the rustling of a 
leaf might betray them. 

It was the presence of the air 
fleet within clear view that made 
the thing so horrible. The defend- 
ers of a nation were watching the 
enemy of a nation, and they were 
helpless to offer battle. The heli- 
copter hummed and droned, and 
Kreynborg grinned and searched 
the earth below him for a sign of 
the man and girl who had been the 
only danger to his plan and now 
were unarmed fugitives. And there 
were four air-dreadnaughts in plain 
sight and five thousand men watch- 
ing, and Kreynborg hunted, for 
sport, a comrade of the five thou- 
sand men and a woman every one 



132 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



of them would have risked or sac- 
rificed his life to protect. 

He seemed certain that they were 
below him. Presently he dropped 
another gas-bomb, and another. And 
then Sylva stumbled and caught at 
something, and there was a crash- 
ing sound as a sapling wavered in 
her grasp. ... And Thorn picked 
her up and fled madly. But billow- 
ing white vapor spouted upward 
before him. He dodged it, and the 
helicopter was just overhead and 
more smoke spouted, and more, and 
more. . . . They were hemmed in, 
and Sylva clung close to Thorn 
and sobbed. . . . 

F ive thousand men, in a thou- 
sand grounded aircraft, shouted 
curses that made no sound. They 
waved weapons that were utterly 
futile. They were as impotent as 
so many ghosts. Their voices made 
not even the half-heard whisper 
one may attribute to a phantom. 

The fog-vapor closed over Thorn 
and Sylva as Kreynborg grinned 
mockingly at the raging men with- 
out the dome of force. He swept 
the helicopter to a position above 
the last view of Thorn and Sylva, 
and the downward-beating screws 
swept away the foggy gas. Thorn and 
Sylva lay motionless, though Thorn 
had instinctively placed himself in 
a position of defense above her. 

The Fighting Force of the United 
Nations watched, raging, while 
Kreynborg descended deliberately 
into the area the helicopter-screws 
kept clear. While he searched 
Thorn’s pockets reflectively and 
found nothing more deadly than 
small pebbles which might strike 
sparks, and a small forked stick. 
While he grinned mockingly at 
the raging armed men and made 
triumphant gesticulations before 
carrying Sylva’s limp figure to the 
helicopter. While the little ship 
rose and swept away toward the 
rocket-plane. 



It descended and was lost to 
view. Thorn lay motionless on the 
earth. Seven-eighths of the fighting 
force of the United Nations was 
imprisoned within the space be- 
tween two domes of force no matter 
could penetrate. A ring two miles 
across and ten miles in outer diam- 
eter held the whole fleet of the 
United Nations paralyzed. 

There was sheer panic through 
the Americas and Europe and th^ 
few outlying possessions of the 
United Nations. . . . And it was at 
this time, with a great fleet already 
half-way across the Pacific, that 
the Com-Pubs declared war in a 
fine gesture of ironic politeness. It 
was within half an hour of this 
time that the Seventh Combat 
Squadron — the only one left unim- 
prisoned — dived down from fifty 
thousand feet into the middle of 
the Com-Pub fleet and went out of 
existence in twenty minutes of such 
carnage as is still stuff for epics. 

The Seventh Squadron died, but 
with it died not less than three 
times as many of the foe. And then 
the Com-Pub fleet came on. Most 
of the original force remained; 
surely enough to devastate an un- 
defended nation, to shatter its cities 
and butcher its people; to slaughter 
its men and enslave its women and 
leave a shambles and smoking ash- 
heaps where the very backbone of 
resistance to the red flag had been. 

I T was twenty minutes before 
Thorn Hard stirred. His lungs 
seemed on fire. His limbs seemed 
lead. His head reeled and rocked. 
He staggered to his feet and stood 
there swaying dully. A vivid light, 
brighter than the sunshine, played 
upon him from the flagship of the 
fleet which now was helpless to de- 
fend its nation. Thorn’s befogged 
brain stirred dazedly as the message 
came. 

“Com-Pub fleet on way. Seventh 
Combat-Squadron wiped out. Na- 



INVASION 



133 



tion defenseless. You are only hope. 
For God’s sake try something. Any- 
thing.” 

Thorn roused himself by a ter- 
rific effort. He managed to ask a 
question by exhausted gestures in 
the Watch visual alphabet. 

“Kreynborg took her to rocket- 
ship,” came the answer. “She recov- 
ered consciousness before being 
carried inside.” 

And Thorn, reeling on his feet 
and unarmed and alone, turned and 
went staggering up a hillside to- 
ward the rocket-ship’s position. He 
could only expect to be killed. He 
could not even hope for anything 
more than to ensure that Sylva, 
also, die mercifully. Behind him 
he left an unarmed nation awaiting 
devastation, with a mighty air fleet 
speeding toward it at six hundred 
miles an hour. 

As he went, though, some 
strength came to him. The fury 
of his toil forced him to breathe 
deeply, cleansing his lungs of the 
stupefying gas which, because it 
was visible as a vapor, had been 
carried in the rocket-ship. A visible 
gas was, of course, more consistent 
with the early pretense that the 
rocket-ship bore invaders from an- 
other planet. And Thorn became 
drenched with sweat, which aided 
in the excretion of the poisonous 
stuff. His brain cleared, and he 
recognized despair and discounted 
it and began to plan grimly to 
make the most of an infinitesimal 
chance. The chance was simply that 
Kreynborg had ransacked his 
pockets and ignored a little forked 
stick. 

CRAMBLING up a steep hill- 
side with his face hardened 
into granite. Thorn drew that from 
his pocket again. Crossing a hill- 
top, he strip’ped off his coat. 

He traveled at the highest speed 
he could maintain, though it seemed 
painfully deliberate. An hour after 



he had started, he was picking up 
small round pebbles wherever he 
sav/ them in his path. By the time 
the tall, bulbous tower was in sight 
he had picked up probably sixty 
such pebbles, but no more than ten 
of them remained in his pockets. 
They, though, were smooth and 
round and even, perhaps an inch 
in diameter, and all very nearly the 
same size. And he carried a club 
in his hand. 

He went down the last slope 
openly. The television lenses on 
the tower would have .picked him 
out in any case, if Kreynborg had 
repaired the screen. He went bold- 
ly up to the rocket-ship. 

“Kreynborg!” he called. “Kreyn- 
borg!’ 

He felt himself being surveyed. 
A door came open. Kreynborg 
stood chuckling at him with a 
pocket-gun in his hand. 

“Ha! Just in time, my friend! 
I haff been fery busy. Dsr Corn- 
Pub fleet is just due to pass in re- 
fiew abofe der welcoming United 
Nations combat-squadrons. I haff 
been gifing them last-minute infor- 
mation and assurance that der 
domes of force are solid and can 
hold forefer. I haff a few minutes 
to spare, which I had intended to 
defote to der fair Sylva. But — ^what 
do you wish?” 

“I’m offering you a bribe,” said 
Thorn, his face a mask. “A billion 
dollars and immunity to cut off the 
outer dome of force.” 

Kreynborg grinned at him. 

“It is too late. Besides being a 
traitor, I would be assassinated in- 
stantly. Also, I shall be Commissar 
for North America anyhow.” 

“Two billion,” said Thorn with- 
out expression. 

“No,” said Kreynborg amusedly. 
“Throw away der club. I shall 
amuse myself with you. Thorn 
Hardt. You shall watch der prog- 
ress of romance between me and 
Sylva. Throw away der club!” 




134 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



The pocket-gun came up. Thorn 
threw away the club. 

“What do you want, if two bil- 
lion’s not enough?’’ 

“Amusement,’’ said Kreynborg 
jovially. “I shall be bored in this 
inner dome, waiting for der air 
fleet to starfe. I wish amusement. 
And I shall get it. Come inside!” 

H e backed away from the door, 
his gun trained on Thorn. 
And Thorn saw that the continu- 
ous-fire stud was down. He walked 
composedly into the red room in 
which he had once awakened. Sylva 
gave a little choked cry at sight of 
him. She was standing, desperately 
defiant, on the other side of the 
induction-screen area on the floor. 
There was a scorched place on the 
floor where Thorn had shorted that 
screen and the bar of metal had 
grown* red-hot. Kreynborg threw 
the switch and motioned Thorn to 
her. 

“I do not bother to search you 
for weapons,” he said dryly. “I did 
it so short a time ago. And you 
had only a club. . . .” 

Thorn walked stiffly beside Sylva. 
She put out a shaking hand and 
touched him. Kreynborg threw the 
switch back again. 

“Der screen is on,” he chuckled. 
“Console each other, children. I am 
glad you came. Thorn Hardt. We 
watch der grand refiew of der Corn- 
Pub fleet. Then I turn a little in- 
fention of mine upon you. It is a 
heat-ray of fery limited range. It 
will be my method of wooing der 
fair Sylva. When she sees you in 
torment, she kisses me sweetly for 
der prifilege of stopping der heat- 
ray. I count upon you, my friend, 
to plead w’th her to grant me der 
most extrafagant of concessions, 
when der heat-ray is searing der 
flesh from your bones. I feel that 
she is soft-hearted enough to oblige 
you. Yes?” 

He touched a button and the re-* 



paired television-screen lighted up. 
All the dome of mountains and sky 
was visible in it. There were danc- 
ing motes in sight, which were air- 
craft. 

“I haff remofed all metal-work 
from that side of der room,” add- 
ed Kreynborg comfortably, “so I 
can dare to turn my back. You can- 
not short der induction-screen 
again. That was c’efer. But you 
face a scientist. Thorn Hardt. You 
haff lost.” 

A sudden surge of flying craft 
appeared on the television screen. 
The grounded fleet of the United 
Nations was taking to the air again. 
In the narrow, two-mile strip be- 
tween the two domes of force it 
swirled up and up. . . . Kreynborg 
frowned. 

“Now, what is der idea of that?” 
he demanded. He moved closer to 
the screen. The pocket-gun was 
left behind, five feet from his fin- 
ger-tips. “Thorn Hardt, you will 
explain it!” 

“They hope,” said Thorn grim- 
ly, “your fleet can make gaps in 
the dome to shoot through. If so, 
they’ll go out through those gaps 
and fight.” 

“Foolish r’ said Kreynborg bland- 
ly. “Der only weapon we haff to 
use is der normal metabolism of 
der human system. Hunger!” 

T horn peached into his pocket. 

Kreynborg was regarding the 
screen absorbedly. Through the 
haze of flying dots which was the 
United Nations fleet, a darkening 
spot to westward became visible. 
It drew nearer and grew larger. 
It was dense. It was huge. It was 
deadly. It was the Com-Pub battle- 
fleet, nearly equal to the impris- 
oned ships in number. It swept up 
to view its helpless enemy. It came 
close, so every man could see their 
only possible antagonists rendered 
impotent. 

Such a maneuver was really 



INVASION 



135 



necessary, when you think of it. 
The Com-Pub fleet had encoun- 
tered one combat-squadron of the 
United Nations fleet, and that one 
squadron, dying, had carried down 
three times its number of enemies. 
It was necessary to show the Com- 
Pub personnel the rest of their 
enemies imprisoned, in order to 
hearten them for the butchery of 
civilians before them. 

Kreynborg. guffawed as the Com- 
Pub fleet made its mocking cir- 
cuit of the invisible dome. And 
Thorn raised his head. 

“Kreynborg!” he said grimly. 
“Look!” 

There was something in his tone 
which made Kreynborg turn. And 
Thorn held a little forked stick in 
his hand. 

“Turn* off the induction-screen, 
or I kill you!” 

Kreynborg looked at him and 
chuckled. 

“It is bluff, my friend,” he said 
dryly. “I haff seen many weapons. 
I am a scientist! You play der 
game of poker. You try a bluff! 
But I answer you with der heat- 
ray !” 

He moved his great bulk, and 
Thorn released his left hand. There 
was a sudden crack on Kreynborg’s 
side of the room. A pebble a little 
over an inch in diameter fell to 
the floor. Kreynborg wavered, and 
toppled and fell. Three times more, 
his face merciless, Thorn drew 
back his arm, and three times 
Kreynborg’s head jerked slightly. 
Then Thorn faced the panel on 
which the induction-screen switch 
was placed. Several times he thrust 
his hand through the screen and 
abruptly drew it back with pain, 
in an attempt to throw the switch. 
At last he was successful, and now 
he walked calmly across the room 
and bent over the motionless 
Kreynborg. 

“Skull fractured,” he said grim- 
ly. “All right, Sylva.” 



H e went through the narrow 
doorway beyond, picking up 
the pocket-gun as he went. There 
was a noise of whining machinery. 
Now Thorn was emptying pellets 
into the mechanism that controlled 
the dome of force. There was a 
crashing of glass. It .stopped. There 
were blows and thumpings. That 
noise stopped too. 

Thorn came back, his eyes glow- 
ing. He flung open the outer door 
of the rocket-ship, and Sylva went 
to him. 

He pointed. 

Far away, the Fighting Force of 
the United Nations was swirling 
upward. ‘Like smoke from a camp- 
fire or winged ants from a tree- 
stump, they went up in a colossal, 
tv/isting spiral. Beyond the domes 
and above them. The domes exist- 
ed no longer. Up and up, and up. 
. . . And then they swooped do-wn 
upon the suddenly fleeing enemy. 
Vengefully, savagely, -with all the 
fury of men avenging not only 
what they have suffered, but also 
what they have feared, the combat- 
squadrons of the United Nations 
fell upon the invaders, Green hexy- 
nitrate explosions lighted up the 
sky. Ear-cracking detonations re- 
verberated among the mountains. 
There was battle there, and death 
and carnage and utter destruction. 
The roar of combat filled the uni- 
verse. 

Thorn closed the door and looked 
down at Kreynborg, who breathed 
stertorously, his mouth foolishly 
open. 

“Our men will be back for us,” 
he said shortly. “We needn’t 
worry.” Then he said, “Huh! He 
called himself a scientist, and he 
didn’t know a sling-shot when he 
saw one!” 

But then Thorn Hard dropped 
a weapon made of a forked stick 
and strong elastic from his chute- 
pack, and caught Sylva hungrily 
in his arms. 



The Science Forum 



Conducted by Carlyle 



The Colors in Light 

Q, — (a) Will you explain the relation 
of the spectral colors to daylight? 

(b) What often causes the light which 
is redected by the edge of a mirror to 
be tinged with violet or orange? — A. P. 

A. — (a) Light rays from the sun are 
of many wave-lengths because of the 
many incandescent elements of which 
the sun is composed.^ The composite of 
these many frequencies affects _ the eye, 
giving us the sensation of _ white light; 
yet if these many frequencies were sep- 
arated from one another, as by a prism, 
we may analyze the light and determine 
visually just what colors, and hence 
what frequencies, are represented. 

“Filters” (colored glasses) may also 
be employed to give a better idea of the 
phenomenon. When simlight is passed 
through a blue glass the color of the 
glass offers resistance to the passage of 
all frequencies excepting those I'Sht 
rays which have a wave-length vsrhich 
corresponds to the color of the » 

hence we get the transmission of blue 
light only. j 

(b) The effect which you mentioned 
regarding the mirror edge is probably 
due to the frequent practice of using 
beveled edge glass in mirrors. This 
bevel then is in effect a prism which 
optically “sorts” the light which passes 
through it, resolving it into the various 
frequencies of which it is composed. I 
am at a loss to know why you specifi- 
cally mention violet and orange, for it 
is certain that on closer observation you 
would find that all the spectral colors 
are represented. ... 

A discussion of the principles in- 
volved in the refraction of light by a 
prism might make clearer the answers to 
your questions. When rays of light of 
different colors (wave-lengths) enter 
obliquely from one medium (fhe air) 
into another medium (the _ gla^) and 
emerge again, the beam of light is bent, 
but the angular degree of bending is 
not the same for all wave-lengths. 
Therefore, the different colors are 
spread out like a fan— the longer rays 
being bent the least and the shorter 
ones the most. This gives us the full 
play of all the colors originally present 
in the light which entered the prism. 
There are also invisible rays which are 
bent by the prism. Beyond the violet 
end of the spectrum are_ to be found 
the ultra-violet rays, which, while m- 



Elliott, B.A., B.S., Ph.D. 



visible to our eyes, will affect a photo- 
graphic plate very strongly, or will 
cause certain chemical substances to 
luminesce, thereby proving their pres- 
ence. The infra-red rays at the other 
end of the spectrum are longer than any 
which give us an optical sensation, but 
may Ijkewise be identified photographi- 
cally. 

In a beam of light from which all the 
colors excepting the violet and red 
were absorbed— such as would be the 
case if daylight were passed through a 
purple glass — a spectral analysis would 
produce a spectrum which was totally 
dark in the middle, the red and violet 
appearing at the ends in precisely the 
positions which they always occupy. 
Their position, when expressed in an- 
gular rotation or in wave-length units, 
will designate their color with a great 
deal more precision than is possible with 
optical color-sense alone. This principle, 
the basis of spectral analysis, makes pos- 
sible very accurate determinations of 
the elements of which stars are composed. 

Thermit 

Q. — What is the explosive “thermit" 
mentioned in Murray Leinster’s story, 
"The Fifth-dimension Tube,’’ in the Jan- 
uary issue of your excellent magazine — 
or is there any such thing after all? I 
believe there is. — R. L. T. 

A. — ^Thermit is an actual substance in- 
vented by Hans Goldschmidt of Essen, 
Germany, in 1895. It is a mixture of 
powdered aluminum and iron oxide. 
These ingredients when brought together 
are capable of producing an exothermic 
reaction of great intensity, giving off 
heat which rises to the temperature of 
2700° C, While the material is not now 
used as an explosive in the ordinary 
sense of the word, it is employed in 
welding and in the refining of certain 
metals. It has also been used by safe- 
crackers to fuse the sturdy steel from 
which safes are made. 

The Depth of the Ocean 

Q. — (a) How does the depth of the 
ocean at its deepest point compare with 
the tallest mountain ranges? 

(b) What is the comparison between 
the total area of the land and of the sea? 
—P. R. B. 

A. — (a) The depth of the ocean in its 

136 



THE SCIENCE FORUM 



137 



deepest parts is not in the same order of 
magnitude with the tallest mountains. 
Probably the deepest portion of the 
ocean bed is located drt 'what is 'known 
as the Philippine Trench, and soundings 
there run as deep as 34,210 feet. Mt. 
Everest, the highest mountain, has an 
altitude of 29,121 feet. Areas of great 
altitude on the earth are much less 
usual than are areas of great depth in 
the ocean. Likewise the high points of 
the earth are mere pinnacles, whereas the 
ocean depths are huge valleys of much 
greater volume. 

(b) The ratio of exposed land area to 
the hydrosphere is 1:2.43. 



Times 

Q. — Wilt you explain the different 
kinds o{ time and for what purpose each 
is used? That is, for instance, solar 
time, sideriat time and Greenwich mean 
time? — M. R. 

A. — Solar time is time reckoned from 
the position of the sun in its trip across 
the heavens from dawn to sunset. As it 
takes 365-plus days for the earth to 
complete its trip around the sun, solar 
time is calculated upon this basis. If, 
however, a star is taken as the fixed 
point, the earth makes an extra rotation 
for each year, because, in the former 
case, the earth’s trip around the sun sub- 
tracts one rotation or one day. It is 
upon this basis that siderial, or star 
time, is computed. If a fixed star were 
observed night after night it would soon 
become apparent that its position at a 
given hour each night would differ 
slightly from that of the preceding night 
until, after the elapse of a year (of sun 
time), this variation would have made a 
complete extra rotation or siderial day. 

The difference between Greenwich 
mean time and Greenwich sun time is 
apparent when we consider that the 
earth does not move at a uniform rate 
in its trip around the sun. Planetary 
motion would be of constant velocity 
only if the orbit were a perfect circle. 
The path of the earth is an ellipse, and 
the velocity is decreased to a certain 
extent as the ‘‘flat” sides of the orbit 
are reached, and momentum is gathered 
as the “corners are turned.” Normally 
it would be supposed that the sun would 
reach its highest point in Greenwich (or 
any other place) at exactly noon, sun 
time, and so it does; but, due to the 
different speed of the forward motion 
of the earth at different times of the 
year, it will be realized that these noons 
are not exactly twenty-four hours apart 
on the clock. The clock, or chronometer, 
is an instrument of constant velocity 
and therefore cannot be expected to reg- 
ulate itself to this discrepancy in the 
length of the day. Therefore, “mean 
time,” an approximation of solar time, 
has been devised. 



Mean time is the kind of time which 
is universally used because of its con- 
stant units and because it is the only 
kind of time which a chronometer can 
keep track of. When, however, time is 
ascertained from the sun, the resulting 
computations can obviously give only 
solar time, which is based on variable 
days, hours, minutes and even seconds. 
To convert the solar time to mean time, 
equations are employed which require 
different factors determined by the posi- 
tion of the earth in its orbit. 

The Electric Motor 

Q, — What makes the inside part of an 
electric motor turn? — H. O. L. 

A. — Magnetic attraction between the 
series of coils on the rotor for the se- 
ries of the stationary coils which sur- 
round them. The current in a coil sets 
up a magnetic field which exerts an at- 
traction for a field nearby. This induces 
the rotor to turn, bringing those two 
fields together— when, lo! the appeal has 
moved on to the next coils and the rotor 
feels impelled to turn some more. After 
that it is just one coil after another and 
so the rotor continues to spin. 

Test Tube Muscle 

Q. — I have read_ that they have living 
muscle growing _ in test tubes at the 
Rockefeller Institute, New York. How 
fast does it grow — R. D. W. 

A. — It is true that at many places 
scientists have succeeded in growing va- 
rious tissues of animal origin in what 
are known as “tissue cultures.” It is 
common practice to use some embry- 
onic material such as a piece of the 
heart muscle from an unhatched chicken 
egg. This material, when kept at the 
proper temperature and fed upon nu- 
trient broth, grows quite rapidlyf If 
given proper attention and free rein as 
far as food requirements are concerned, 
the muscle tissue would burst the walls 
of the laboratory in a few months. The 
muscle thus grown in tissue culture is 
similar in all respects to the muscle in 
the heart which gave it its origin. When 
viewed microscopically it is seen to un- 
dergo periodic_ rhythmic contractions 
which are similar in nature to heart 
beats in the living animal. 

Earth-Bound Hydrogen 

Q. — Why doesn’t the hydrogen in 
steam fly to the stratosphere? I thought 
that hydrogen is the lightest gas.—S. T. 

A. — Hydrogen is indeed the lightest 
gas, but when combined with oxygen to 
form water or steam it loses all of its 
physical properties and among them its 
extreme lightness. 




“Not Bad” 

Dear Editor: 

For several months I’ve been reading 
this mag until now it has become a 
habit. I’ve just finished the September 
issue of “our” mag, and it’s not bad, 
dear sir, not bad. 

“Loot of the Void” was something 
cut of the ordinary. “Slaves of Mer- 
cury” was swell. I am waiting for the 
next part of “Two Thousand Miles Be- 
low”— it’s swell. “Raiders of the Uni- 
verse” was nifty, and last, and — [Cen- 
sored.— Ed.] was “Disowned.” But don’t 
let the hard word dishearten you, Mr. 
Editor; you’ve got a great mag.— Irving 
Kosow, 3415 Fulton St., Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Starting Young 

Dear Editor: 

Here is another letter from one of 
your youthful readers. The age, twelve, 
the cause, appreciation of those astound- 
ing stories, “The Affair of the Brains” 
and “Slaves of Mercury” by Anthony 
Gihnore and Nat Schachner. Get them 
to write in future issues. 

I will now proceed to write down a 
poem I composed especially for As- 
tounding Stories: 



Astounding Stories 

’Twas just a half year ago, when 
first I came to know 

That interesting magazine. Astound- 
ing Stories. 

When I came across that magazine, 

I said. 

That is the magazine for me, As- 
tounding Stories. 

In weeks to come it brought me 
dreams of other worlds 

And all such things, of great adven- 
ture out in space. 

That is the readers’ paradise. As- 
tounding Stories. 

It is a magazine which one can 
buy without too much 

Uncconomy,. Astounding Stories. 

— Henry A. Ackerman, 5200 Maple Ave., 
Pimlico, Baltimore, Md. 

Who’d Dare to Boo! 

Dear Editor: 

It seems to me that A. S. is going 
down the steps (or rather elevator) to 
debasement. What we need is more 
science in our stories; and you call them 
Science Fiction! In the September issue 
I read nothing but adventure, such as 
found in cheaper (yes, cheap!) maga- 




1,^9 



THE READERS’ CORNER 



2 ines. Adventure be — [Censored. — Ed.] 
Is the depression wrecking honest sto- 
ries and authors? 

Everything’s gone_ wfUng. Tb#'news- 
stands here haven’t "even savld^ my reg- 
ular mags for me. I’ve given the agent 
so many pieces of my ipind, now, that 
I’m almost a lame-brain! fThe onlyfthing 
left for me to do is -to take out a sub- 
scription. 

Another story pertaining to Mercury 
decorated your magazine this month. 
How about your authors jumping over 
to Saturn for a while? They seem to 
run such things into the ground and I 
find it exceedingly debilitating. 

But just about that time you break in 
with, “Which was first, the hen or the 
egg?’’ Now I ask you, is that nice? Did 
your readers ever look up the word nice 
in their dusty dictionaries? (1 was 
using the synonym.) 

I see we have a poet in our “Corner.” 
(You certainly cornered him!) What 
was wrong with the last verse, Henry? 

Everybody is asking for a sequel to 
some story, and I don’t blame them. 
Some of them have been good stories 
and deserve a sequel. 

The “Corner” was longer this time, 
much to my liking. Now all we need is 
a science question and answer depart- 
ment. I’ve got a lot I could ask you! 
(Not about a hen or an egg, either.) 

How about a story featuring some 
great scientist — say, a _ chemist, seeing 
as my foremost hobby is chemistry, be- 
sides interplanetary travel — in the world 
of the future; huge super-cities, air traf- 
fic, etc.? I believe that type of story 
would fall in just right. _ The scientist 
is nothing but a true scientist, with_ a 
tough mug who devotedly _ follows him 
aroimd as protection against enemies 
after his great knowledge. _ (And you 
ask me what I know about it. Did you 
ever attempt to write such a story? 
Well, it certainly looks hot.) 

But by this time, I’m completely 
drowned out by boos from all parts of 
the floor. — Thos. P. Daniel, Box 247, 
Sidney, Nebr. 

Tbavks Very Much 

Dear Editor: 

I have just concluded my first copy of 
Astounding Stories, the September issue, 
and hereby declare it the best of its 
kind that I have ever read. 

Being a newcomer to your “Corner,” 
I do not feel privileged to agree or dis- 
agree with the older writers on the 
subject of authors and artists. However, 
I would like to say that no matter how 
bad an author or artist may be, someone 
will always like him, and no matter 
how good he may be, someone is bound 
to dislike him. Is it not so? [Aye. Aye. 
—Ed.] 

I learned a lot of what has gone be- 
fore from the letters in the “Corner,’’ 



and agree heartily with Sidney "Curtiss, 
of my own state, incidentally, when he 
says that thes§ stories are not total im- 
possibilities. 

I am not, a student of science, nor 
would that be my choice of a subject 
for intensive study, but I do know and 
understand something of the things 
scientists have ~3one for us, 

I have read that scientists are, even 
now, working on rays that will wipe 
out whole armies and towns at a single 
flash. The progress has been steady 
and the rays seem more and more a pos- 
sibility. A friend of mine and I dis- 
cussed the subject to some extent a 
few days ago and he seemed to feel 
that it would be a pretty horrible war 
where such methods were used. I can- 
not believe anything would be more hor- 
rible than the “modern methods” used 
in the World War. Why not end a war 
by a single flash of a ray gun and do 
away with the years of waiting and suf- 
fering? 

But enough of that. _ I started out _ to 
tell you how much I liked A. S. Being 
an authoress myself and possessed of 
an imagination that runs wild at times, 
I found A. S. very much to my liking; 
but my imaginative creations are 
dwarfed by those contained in the sto- 
ries of A. S. 

I enjoyed “Slaves of Mercury” more 
than words can tell, and sincerely hope 
we have not read the last of Hilary 
Grendon and his companions, Joan, Grim 
and Nat. How about it? 

Although I tuned in on the second 
installment of “Two Thousand Miles 
Below” I was favorably impressed and“ 
don’t expect to miss another installment. 

“Loot of the Void” sent shivers up 
and down my spine, but I liked it. “Dis- 
owned” and “Raiders of the Univwse” 
were also interesting. The cover painted 
by Wesso was attractive, and if all his 
work is as good, I am sure I will like 
him. 

All in all, I think that A. S. upholds 
the liking and respect I have for all 
the other Clayton publications, having 
read all of them extensively, including 
Strange Tales. 

From now on I am one of your sin- 
cerest readers. Congratulations and over- 
whelming success to A. S. — Frances M. 
Boswell, 551 N. 32nd St., East St. Louis, 
111 . 

Scientipenpals Wanted 

Dear Editor: 

I read my first two issues of Astound- 
ing Stories recently and found them 
quite interesting in subject matter. They 
have a variety of scientific topics that 
would interest persons of different view- 
points. Several stories on different 
branches of science made my interest 
keener. 



140 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



I enjoyed the “Corner.” The opinions 
of the writers were stimulating and in- 
structive. 

I should appreciate corresponding with 
some A. S. readers. I am twenty-two, 
interested in. astronomy, chemistry, wire- 
less transmitting, life on planets, etc.; 
also sports. — ^Joseph Andrews, 1306 Jack- 
son Ave., Windber, Pa. 

Goes Roaming with' A. S. 

Dear Editor: 

This is my first time to tell you how 
I feel about Astounding Stories. The 
desire came upon me after I had read 
the September issue. I have been read- 
ing A. S. for the last two years, but I 
don’t remember one issue that has had 
such splendid stories, as far as Science 
Fiction is concerned. Let me make my- 
self clear as to the fact that I am not an 
expert in astronomy or anything scien- 
tific. About two-thirds of the science in 
some stories goes over my head. The 
rest I comprehend enough so as to en- 
joy the story in an adventurous manner. 
The truth is, being handicapped and 
knowing that I will never go seeking 
adventure like many hope to some day 
during the course of their lives, I go 
roaming with Astounding Stories’ au- 
thors. Science Fiction stories are my 
meat. So that is why I like “our” mag. 

The stories I enjoyed are, in order of 
rank, “Slaves of Mercury,” “Two Thou- 
sand Miles Below,” the first serial I’ve 
ever liked, “Disowned” — great, “Loot of 
the. Void” — some narrative — and last 
but not least, “Raiders of the Universe,” 
one of the stories in which two-thirds 
of the science goes over my head, which 
is why it is named last. 

I am 19 and would be glad to com- 
municate with anyone by mail. Always 
anxious to learn from those who know. 
— Lucien Filiatrault, 695 Ninth Ave., 
New York, N. Y. 

Young, but “Staunch” 

Dear Editor; 

I am a staunch reader of A. S. The 
first time I ever read the mag was 
when a sympathetic friend brought me a 
copy of it when I had the mumps. Im- 
mediately after I had recovered I went 
back for more. I read all he had, and 
now I buy my own copy. 

I claim the privilege of being the 
youngest A. S. reader. Although I am 
13 now, when I started reading the mag 
I was approximately 6 months past the 
austere age of 12. But, anyway, I like 
all kinds of science, especially astron- 
omy. 

The September issue was the best I 
have seen in a long time. “Slaves of 
Mercury” — well, well, welll Those poor 
Mercutians must have had a hard time 
resisting our gravity since the Earth is 



twice as big as Mercury, but it was a 
good story. Schachner knows how to 
turn ’em out. Sa-a-ay — how in the deuce 
do y«m ipronounce Garboregg, anyway? 
And the 'r6st of the names Wandrei has 
aren’t exactly easy ones to pronounce: 
Aarbti and Sthabreh, etc. That mind- 
reading trick seemed to be an advantage, 
but Phobar turned- it the other way. 

“Disowned” was a nice story, but I 
wouldn’t like to be Tristan. “Two 
Thousand Miles Below” is getting bet- 
ter and better. Dr. Bird is getting 
worse every day. It’s too bad he didn’t 
swallow some of those negative charges 
and choke to death. “Pirates of the 
Gorm” wasn’t as good as Schachner usu- 
ally makes them. 

My favorite authors are: Meek fex- 
cept in Dr. Bird stories)., Gilmore, 
Starzl, Schachner, Ctunmings and Difiin. 

I hand it to_ Louis Hogenmiller for 
what he saidf in the September issue. 
Those are my views* exactly.— -J. S. 
Smarts, New Bloomfield, Mo. 

"Super-ScientiHc Kinhi’ 

Dear Editor: 

Being one of those unfortunate (in 
other, folks’ estimation!) people that 
have a decided super-scientific kink in 
their mind, I have always had a craving 
for irtories and books that deal with 
Science Fiction ; but, unfortunately, I 
could only infrequently find any until 
one day, talking to a newly made friend, 
I discovered that he possessed mental 
deficiencies similar to mine and, above 
all, was a reader of a certain magazine 
called Astounding Stories. A few words 
as to the nature of the mag, and I 
commanded him, under penalty of death 
and other unhealthy pimishments, to 
bring all his copies to me on the follow- 
ing day, which, luckily for himself, he 
did. So I read and read till I was blue 
in the face, and this, instead of satis- 
fying my appetite, whetted it all the 
more — ^but I could find no new copies at 
our local news-agents. I hunted high 
and low without avail, and finally de- 
cided that the easiest way_ out of the 
difficulty was to subscribe direct. There- 
fore, I am sending a money order for a 
year’s subscription. 

The stories that appeal to me most 
are about travels to other planets; in 
any case, the more fantastic and (appar- 
ently) impossible the yarns, the better 
they go down. In fact, it is rather an 
impossibility for me to read authentic 
novels of the common or garden variety 
—I never do— just can’t! “Poor fish,” 
some people call me, but, well, it suits 
me, so I don’t worry. Like some of 
your other readers, I wish yoiir excel- 
lent mag were published at least twice 
a month or, better still, weekly — though 
what a hope! I would also like to see it. 
profusely illustrated. 

I expect that among your readers 



THE READERS’ CORNER 



141 



there are many who, like me, are head* 
ing in a bee-line towards the asylum, 
and 'I shall only be too pleased if they 
will deign to communicate with me so 
that we could exchange a few ideas. 
One gets lots of fun in thrashing out 
various inventions and things appearing 
in your mag and discussing their i pos- 
sibilities, etc. Also, there may be some 
who would like to know more about this 
half-forgotten corner of Africa, and, 
well, maybe I can enlighten and disillu- 
sion them. For example, one does not 
see lions slinking along on the shadowy 
side of the street out here; at least, not 
as a rule. This fact will probably sur- 
prise you just as much as you would me 
if you suddenly were to turn round and 
say that the ancient custom of shooting 
up cities from horseback (vide “Buffalo 
Bill” stories) has been dropped. . . . 
Oh, shurrup. _ 

Anyway, wishing you and your readers 
the best of luck in queer ideas. — D. de 
Woronin, Box 692, Salisbury, Southern 
Rhodesia, Africa. 

Preferences 

Dear Editor: 

This is my first letter to your wonder- 
ful magazine, but let us hope that it 
will not be my last. Although quite 
young, I am a most enthusiastic reader, 
and eagerly look forward to each new 
issue. 

Here is a list of the stories I pre- 
ferred: 

The outstanding serials were, in or- 
der of nreference : “Earth, the Marau- 
der,” “Brigands of the Moon,” “Wandl 
the Invader,” “The Exile of Time” and 



“Brood of the Dark Moon.” The worst 
by far was “Murder Madness.” Of the 
novelettes I preferred “Dark Moon,” 
“Slaves of Mercury,” “The Finding of 
Haldgren,” “The White Invaders,” all 
the Hawk Carse yarns, “Monsters of 
Mars” and “The Atom-Smasher.” Of the 
longer stories I preferred “The Pygmy 
Planet” and “Holocaust.” “Hellhounds 
of the Cosmos” is by far the best Sci- 
ence Fiction story I have ever read, and 
1 have read many. 

My only hope is that future stories 
will maintain the same high-grade qual- 
ity. — G. D. Vincent, Coode St., Como, 
Perth, Western Australia^ 

Suggestions 

Dear Editor: 

I have enjoyed reading your magazine 
for over two years and find it fascinat- 
ing and very interesting. 

Please print this first letter of mine. 
I desire to help you increase your cir- 
culation. To improve the mag I suggest 
the following: 

1 — Encourage the works of authors 
who have a real sense of humor. 

2— — Discourage authors whose stories 
lack originality of plot, or are imbal- 
anced by too much description of ter- 
rible, grotesque, cruel entities. 

3 — I would like, and my friends 

would enjoy, stories containing the fol- 
lowing themes: adventures into past 

times, such as the court of the Roman 
Caesar; the struggle between humani- 
tarians on a better planet against the 
corrupt human organizations. — Morris 
Shelibow, 344 E. 51st St., Brookl 3 m, 
N. Y. 



The Reader’s Ballot 

My favorite Science Fiction authors are, in the following order: 



2 „ 

3 . - 



4 . 



5 

Name. 

Address 



My question for The Science Forum is: 



[Be sure and fill out the Story Preference Coupon on the other side— yes ?) 



ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE 



14S 

A Dare 
Dear Editor: 

Once again, after a two months’ wait, 
a new issue of Astounding Stories is in 
my hands. An excellent munher it is, 
too. Wesso’s cover is the best he has 
ever done for “our” magazine. 

“Two Thousand Miles Below” is the 
best story Charles W. DifSn has writ- 
ten since “The Pirate Planet.” It’s a 
peach of a tale. 

“The Passing of Ku Sui” is the best 
of the Hawk Carse stories — so far. 
Please don’t say that it is the last of 
them. Of course, he will have many 
more adventures and have as his wife, 
Sandra, the daughter of Leithgow. 

I read with much interest the other 
tales in the November issue. I enjoyed 
them all. 

“The Reader Spanks” would be a 
good name for our get together depart- 
ment, wouldn’t it? I notice some of the 
readers are getting poetic. How would 
you like a poem (?) from me some 
time? [We dare you! — Ed.] 

I wish you would use finer print in 
the “Corner,” so more letters could be 
printed. 

Do you think that Astounding Stories 
will be published every month again 
soon? I hope you make such an an- 
nouncement in the next issue. Also that 
GUT magazine will change to a larger 
size. I would like to see Paul, Wesso 
and Marchioni together in one issue. — 
Jack Darrow, 4224 N. Sawyer Ave., 
Chicago, 111. 



Scientipenpushers Wanted 

Dear Editor: 

Hav^syou room for my opinion in the 
“Comer’? I think A. S. is pretty good, 
only it could be twice as thick and cctme 
out six times a month — and then that 
wouldn’t be any too often. 

Say, Editor, don’t you ever let any of 
those big — — [Censored.— Ed.] talk 
you into printing reprints. If they read 
a story once, that’s enough. Besides, 
why not save the old copies of A. S.? 
Then there would be no use for re- 
prints. 

Are there any readers who would like 
to correspond with me? I’ll be glad to 
answer all letters promptly. Girls or 
boys around the age of sixteen, come 
Onl— Claude Holf, Monroe City, Mo. 

Invitations 

Have you a question of scientific na- 
ture you’ve been saving up? Send it in, 
on the coupon provided. We cannot un- 
dertake to answer all questions, but 
we’ll make room in the Science Forum 
for those of greatest general interest. 

Fill out and send in the Vote of Pref- 
erence and Reader’s Ballot, too, of 
course; and, if you have time, come and 
join in our discussions of stories, authors, 
scientific principles and possibilities (yes, 
and the throwing of brickbats and roses) 
—everything that’s of common interest in 
connection with Astounding Stories. 

This is your magazine, and you’re cor- 
dially invited to make full use of it, 

The Editor. 



My Story Preferences in This Issue 

1 enjoyed these storied mosti Remarks: 

3 

1 enjoyed these stories least : Remarks : 

1 

2 



Address 

[It will help us know your story preferences if you will fill out and maO this 
coupon to Astounding Stories, 155 E. 44th St., New York Oty. Thank yOul] 



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